


Mystery

by 8ucky8arnes



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mentioned suicide attempt, Panic Attacks, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Episode: s03e10 Maveth, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Season 4 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 82,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5820010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8ucky8arnes/pseuds/8ucky8arnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of my one-shot, Mystery.</p><p> </p><p>Since James Buchanan Barnes stumbled onto base with Captain America almost two weeks ago after a disastrous mission, Jemma couldn’t get him out of her mind. After a chance encounter with the elusive Winter Soldier, Jemma is determined to find out the mystery that is James Barnes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mystery

**Author's Note:**

> Since you (the readers) have asked me to continue this one-shot, I will do just that. This first chapter is just a reposting of the one-shot. Enjoy!

Jemma’s mind drifted as she worked on the samples that Coulson had given her that afternoon. Since James Buchanan Barnes stumbled onto base with Captain America almost two weeks ago after a disastrous mission, Jemma couldn’t get him out of her mind. After the shouting match with Coulson, the Captain and Barnes (mostly the Captain) decided to lay low for a while. The two supersoldiers couldn’t have been more different.

Captain Rogers was like a magnet of light, people gravitated toward the Brooklyn drawl and easy smiles. He filled the room with his presence and at one point had even got May to spar with him. He answered all the questions he could and would tell stories about the Avengers if asked. He was as honest and open as he was kind. 

Barnes was a wraith, omnipresent and silent. Everyone, except the Captain, avoided going near him. It wasn’t a conscious thing. It was the aura surrounding him… the energy coming off him that triggered something ingrained deep in their DNA, that told them that there was a predator in their midst and that they should stay clear of him. His expressions ranged from scared to angry to confused to nothing. It was the nothing that scared them more than anything. 

Jemma had always thought that eyes were windows to the soul, but what happened when there wasn’t anything there? She wanted to get a better picture of this man, but he actively avoided the labs or scientists which usually meant her and Fitz. 

“Don’t take it too personally,” Steve told them. “Scientists and doctors make him skittish.” 

Both nodded in understanding, knowing what HYDRA would do for scientific exploration and just plain curiosity. Skye’s mother and Agent 33 were just two examples that came to mind. Obviously, neither were fun to think about… 

Another nearly two weeks without a glimpse of him made it pretty clear she shouldn’t expect him to approach her at all. That was fine by her, she thought, she could focus on more important things like matching blood samples to the Asset Register if they weren’t already in the system. 

Once completed, she finally looked at the time. 3:37 am. Bloody fantastic… She pulled off the gloves and mask, throwing them in the biohazard container before hanging her lab coat on a rack. She pulled her hair out of its confines, getting rid the tangles she always seemed to get. Slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder, she shut off the lights and made sure the door was locked before leaving. 

Not surprisingly, the kitchen was vacant as she made her way to the cabinets and grabbed a bag of what she knew was chamomile tea. She turned on the stove and filled the kettle with water before pulling one the mugs down. After pulling her worn copy of Pride and Prejudice from her bag and setting it on the table nearest the stove, she switched on the lights…And stifled a scream as a figure materialized from the far corner, looking like a startled animal. 

His expression flickered between confusion and fear, the bruise-colored bags beneath his blue eyes showing how little he’d been sleeping. His chin length hair was haphazardly pulled back at the base of his skull, and he was clean shaven. That was a new development… 

“ _Kto ty?_ ” His voice was gravelly. 

“I’m sorry…I don’t speak Russian.” 

He blinked a few times, still confused, and took a step toward her. “ _Qui es-tu?_ ” 

Jemma shook her head, confused as well. She knew he could speak English, had heard the few words spoken to the Captain. First Russian and now French. He almost appeared frustrated at the words that left his mouth… Was his brain not allowing to speak English? Curiouser and curiouser… 

The silence was broken as the kettle whistled. Going off of his confused expression, he probably wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Putting the bag in mug, she poured the hot water in and stirred it with a spoon, leaving the heat of the stove on low. 

“Can you speak Gaelic?” She watched his brow furrow. “ _Ciamar a tha thu?_ ” 

Gaelic, or more specific Scottish Gaelic, wasn’t a language commonly spoken outside of the UK, but Jemma had had Fitz teach her throughout their years at the Academy given that he had a tendency to switch from Gaelic to English and back again. It was the only other language she knew other than her native English and Jemma hoped he understood her or else she would be at a loss… 

“ _Cé tusa?_ ” 

Irish dialect then…interesting. She wasn’t as fluent in it as she was in Scottish, but she understood his question. Who are you? Did he really not know? He and Captain Rogers had been here for almost two weeks…but then again he’d avoided her and Fitz from the beginning. So he wouldn’t have a face to the name… “My name is Jemma…Jemma Simmons.” He froze, clearly recognizing her name. He didn’t leave like she thought he would, instead staring at her with those piercing eyes that were probably cataloging her strengths and weaknesses. 

She knew she wasn’t physically intimating like May, Bobbi, or Skye. Her strength was her intelligence. She’d been sparring with Skye (Daisy now) and had picked up skills, but nothing that would ever come close to the Winter Soldier. He could break her with one hit of that metal arm… 

Forcing her hands not to shake, she took a drink of her tea, realizing too late how hot it still was. After another minute of silence, she decided to pick up her book. Jemma could feel his eyes on her for in the minutes following and even the calming effects of the chamomile wouldn’t slow down her pounding heart. 

“A _dochtúir?_ ” 

“Biochemist…if you want to be more specific.” She didn’t know if that made a difference to him, but she did know that her background of biology and human anatomy could trigger that blank expression and that blank expression could equal a metal hand around her throat. It was difficult to tell… “I’m not going to hurt you James…if that’s what you’re worried about.” She drank the last of her tea and went to stand up again, mug in hand. “Would you like some tea?” 

He stared at the mug in her hand and then the kettle on the stove. “Yes.” 

She turned to pull another mug from the shelf, smiling to herself at the flicker of relief in his eyes. Grabbing two more tea bags, she turned up the heat and only had to wait about a minute until the kettle began to whistle. Filling both mugs, she turned to set them down stop suddenly when he appeared right behind her. She hissed in pain, a muttered curse slipping out as the water scalded her hands, and let go of the mugs. 

He caught them before they could break, the hot liquid sloshing over the sides clearly not bothering him in the slightest. He set the mugs back onto the counter as she ran her burned hands under cold water. “I…I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine. You just startled me is all.” The water felt great running through her fingers. “Not the first time I’ve done it.” She could tell though, that some areas of the burns were second degree and would require more than just cold water. Shoot… 

For the next fifteen minutes, the only sound was the water going down the drain. Drying her hands the best she could, Jemma opened the cabinet under the sink with her foot and crouched down to grab the first aid kit. Seconds later she realized curling her fingers around the handle was going to be difficult. Positioning the box between her forearms, she held it tightly as she stood up. 

He’d set the mugs down and looked like he wanted to help. It seemed to take him a moment to convince himself that she couldn’t actually do anything with her burned hands and took the box with his metal hand. 

Her numbed hands were starting to throb painfully and Jemma watched him open the kit. She held her hands as still as she could while he assessed the burns and the contents, pulling out antibiotic ointment, elastic bandages, and a small pair of scissors to cut them. She appreciated the gentleness he used over the second degree burns as he applied the antibiotic ointment and the fact that he only used his metal hand to steady her arm (it would’ve felt awful on the burned skin). “Have you done this before?” 

He paused while wrapped the bandage expertly between her fingers. “Too many times.” 

The bandaging was finished in silence and her eyes followed him as he threw away the used supplies, replaced the scissors, and placed two Ibuprofen in the palm of her hand. She swallowed them dry and while he returned the kit under the sink, she dumped the now lukewarm water and threw away the used tea bags before grabbing two more and placing them in the empty mugs. 

“What are you doing?” 

She didn’t freak out as his voice came from directly her. Jemma didn’t turn around as she reached for the kettle. A warm hand closed lightly around her wrist. Finally she met his eyes, noticing that being this close she could see flecks of gray within the icy blue, reminding her of the cloudy skies over her childhood home in Sheffield. “I’m making us tea.” 

“You burned yourself.” 

“I know…that shouldn’t stop me from making it. You said you wanted some.” 

He let go of her hand and at this distance, the disbelief that widened his eyes was noticeable. He poured the water into the mugs himself, not allowing her to do anything as he moved them to the counter. 

If she didn’t know any better, Jemma would say he was worried. When she reached out to grab it, he stopped her and held the mug in his metal hand to absorb the worst of the heat. “Just let me hold it. I’m fine.” 

He sighed. “Clearly.” 

“Can I have my tea please?” 

His mouth quirked down, but he slid the drink over anyways. He practically glared at the mug as she lifted it to her mouth, as if it would attack her if he looked away. Satisfied she wasn’t going to burn herself again, he took a tentative sip. 

Both finished in silence and Jemma set the mugs in the sink. Turning around, she found him putting her book back into her bag and allowed him to slip the strap onto her shoulder. Her thanks was answered with a single nod and when she returned to her quarter, she felt his presence behind her. Letting the bag fall to the floor, she kicked off her shoes and fell asleep minutes after she laid down. 

When Jemma woke up the next morning to a glass of water and two more Ibuprofen on her bedside table, she smiled. _You are a mystery James Barnes…quite the mystery indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Kto ty?_ \- Who are you?  
>  _Qui es-tu?_ \- Who are you?  
>  _Ciamar a tha thu?_ -Hello, how are you?  
>  _Cé tusa?_ \- Who are you?  
>  _Dochtúir_ \- Doctor


	2. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, Chapter 2! Hope you enjoy it :)

Jemma couldn’t have been more relieved to remember that today was her ‘mandatory’ day off. Mandatory in that Coulson told her she needed, at least, one day a week because he knew she would work herself into exhaustion otherwise. And an exhausted agent wasn’t a useful one…

Taking the two pills into her palm, she went to pick up the glass and stiffened as she slowly curled her fingers around the glass. Pushing past the discomfort, she swallowed the pills and set the glass down. Silently thanking that the larger base came with larger rooms, she made her way to the small attached bathroom and grabbed the personal first aid kit from under the sink and set it on top. She would have to remove the bandages to see the damage, but decided to wait until the painkillers kicked in before then. 

She killed the time by setting out her outfit for the day and pulling Pride & Prejudice from her bag, remembering vividly who put it there… He’d intrigued her before she’d stumbled onto him the kitchen last night, but now she knew that there was more to him than his moniker, The Winter Soldier, and the metal arm that came with it. 

“Jemma you awake?” 

_Daisy._ “Yeah.” 

“Can I come in?” 

“Of course.” Thankfully she thought to cover her hands with the clothing she’d laid out before the door opened, revealing her friend in casual attire. She smiled “Good morning Daisy.” 

“Morning sleepy head.” 

Jemma spared a glance at the clock. It was nearly ten-thirty… She tried to remember when she’d finally fallen asleep, but her thoughts then had been occupied. “Late night.” Daisy nodded. “Did you get the samples finished?” 

“Every one of them was cataloged.” She inwardly sighed in relief as the pain slowly bled from her hands. Finally… “How’d your recruitment mission go?” 

Daisy had been assigned as leader of a program called “Secret Warriors” by Coulson a few weeks back. She and Lincoln had been scouting for new members. Except for Joey Gutierrez, they’d been short on luck. This mission seemed to have turned out the same given the slight lowering of her shoulders. “Lash has gotten to most of them.” 

Jemma winced, remembering that it had been her that’d freed him in the first place. Would she ever stop feeling that these deaths were on her? That the blood was on her hands? Daisy changed topics, knowing why she had had that reaction. “So…Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?” 

Who are you? Jemma could feel her cheeks warming up and knew that lying wasn’t an option. It’d be seen through immediately. “Well, I finally met the elusive Winter Soldier.” 

“Oh?” Daisy raised her eyebrows that told her to continue. 

Jemma knew the team was cautious of him, Daisy was no different. Most were afraid of him snapping due to the fact that he’d attacked the Captain on two separate occasions when they first got here. She wouldn’t bother arguing his case by saying that he hadn’t done anything since. It seemed he was doing everything to avoid people in general now. Telling Daisy she’d been in a room all alone with him and he’d (unintentionally) caused her bodily harm would earn her an agent following her every move or him... “Met in that he found out who I was and left without saying a word.” 

“Well, you need to be careful around him Jemma. I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“It was a one-time thing. You know he avoids anything to do with science.” Jemma adjusted the clothing in her arms, thankful that her shaking hands were covered. It seemed she was getting slightly better at lying or, at least, good enough to fool Daisy. “Is there something you needed?” 

“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to join me for lunch later…say one o’clock.” 

“I…I don’t know. I was hoping to get some reading done.” She motioned to the book she’d laid out on her bed. She prayed that this would be a good enough reason to be left alone in her room. 

“That book? You’ve read it already.” 

“I want to read it again.” Jemma smiled, glad to be back on a familiar topic. 

“Okay then, you bookworm. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” 

“See you later then?” 

Daisy smiled. “Of course.” 

Jemma waited until the door shut behind her friend before she sighed loudly in relief. She hated to exclude herself, but she didn’t want to have to explain how she burned both hands and bandaged them herself. Setting her clothes back onto the bed, she went into the bathroom. 

She slowly peeled off the wrappings on her right hand. The skin was still reddened, but there were no blisters that she could see. First degree then. These would heal on their own… Then she unwrapped her left hand and she could see small blisters along the top of her hand. These would need another wrapping. After rewrapping the bandages, she stripped off her pajamas and pulled a latex glove over the bandages before taping it closed. It would work for a short, lukewarm shower. 

The water, although tepid, was relaxing and she quickly set to work washing her hair and body in record time. Stepping out, she wrapped one towel around her body and another into a turban for her hair. 

She dressed quickly, leaving her damp hair down to dry as she removed the latex glove and threw it away. Slipping on her flats, she went down to the kitchen to grab a cup of tea. Somehow the image of James glaring at a ceramic mug came to mind and she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. 

“What’s got you laughing?” 

Her face flushed as she turned to face Coulson’s amused expression. “N-nothing really.” 

Coulson gaze drifted to the bandages. “What happened?” 

“Burned it making tea while I was half awake…nothing serious.” She set the kettle on the stove and readied a mug of Earl Grey. “I should be able to go back to work tomorrow.” 

“Actually…I have a mission for you. If you’re up for it.” 

“A-a mission?” 

“It’s purely a retrieval mission. Daisy and Bobbi will be accompanying you to a HYDRA base that Cap and Barnes cleaned out a couple of days ago. You’re needed to retrieve an unknown biological entity from the labs. They didn’t want to mess with anything.” 

Couple of days ago? Jemma didn’t remember them ever being gone (James’ avoidance of her notwithstanding), but then figured it had been a mission with just the two of them. Understandable why they wouldn’t want to touch anything in the labs. “When do we depart?” 

“0600 hours.” Coulson tipped his head. “Enjoy your free day Agent Simmons.” 

“I will, Sir.” Jemma smiled before pouring the water into the mug. Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, she stirred it as she made her way back to her room. Now she could start her reading… 

She put the cup on her bedside table and picked up the book, flipping to the marked page. Jemma loved how easily she could slip out of reality and into Elizabeth’s world. Here, Jemma knew that everything would be okay in the end and that Elizabeth Bennet would marry Fitzwilliam Darcy. 

_After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began, “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”_

“Jemma…you still coming to lunch?” 

She set the book down. Was it already lunchtime? Jemma looked at the clock. Sure enough, it read 1:30pm. “Yeah, give me a moment.” She slipped on her flats and grabbed the empty cup from the table before meeting Daisy in the hallway. “Let’s go.” 

“I’m surprised I could pry you from that thing.” 

“That thing is a two-hundred-year-old piece of literary brilliance.” 

“So you say. Hey, is there a chance you could make some of your famous sandwiches?” 

Jemma playfully sighed. 

“Pleeease…” 

“Oh alright. I’ll make you one.” She set the dishes into the sink and pulled out the ingredients necessary for the pesto aioli and put it into a blender. While that was going on, Jemma cut the tomatoes and pulled out plates to put the rolls on. 

While she poured the pesto aioli into a small bowl and put the prosciutto, tomatoes, and parmesean on the rolls, Jemma felt a familiar presence watching her. Setting the pitcher in the sink, she quickly scanned the room and caught the dark figure disappear around the corner towards the training room. 

Handing Daisy her sandwich, she quickly made two more before taking the three sandwiches to the training room. Hunter gave her a weird look as he finished on the punching bag which she ignored as soon as she who was using the sparring mat. 

Jemma had seen the freeway footage of Captain America and the Winter Soldier, but actually watching it was a whole other thing entirely. If she hadn’t known who they were at first glance, Jemma wouldn’t think men of their size could move so fluidly or swiftly. She struggled to keep up, only catching flashes of Barnes’ arm. It was like they could predict each other’s movements… 

_Crack._

“Fuck Steve, I’m-” 

“Don’t apologize.” Steve waved off his friend, straightening his nose. “You know it’s not the first one I’ve received.” 

“’Cause you were a punk who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” 

Jemma observed the interaction, liking the drawl that came into James’ voice and the light that brightened the dark blue irises. It was like he was Bucky Barnes again, a human being instead of a machine… 

Cleaning the trickling blood away with a towel, Steve finally noticed Jemma. “Good afternoon Miss Simmons.” 

“Afternoon Steve,” She held out the plate, feeling those piercing eyes on her without even looking. “I made you and James sandwiches.” 

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

Jemma could help but blush at the wide smile he gave her. “I was already making some, so I figured you two would want one as well.” 

He took two sandwiches. “Thank you, Jemma. Hey, Buck…And he’s gone.” The man rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand when he noticed the now empty space behind him. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“Hey no, it’s fine. I understand.” She smiled. “Tell me if he likes it?” 

Steve laughed. “Will do. Good luck on your mission.” 

“Thanks.” Jemma tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear before taking her sandwich back to the kitchen. Thankfully, Daisy was still there, seated at a table with her sandwich half eaten. She waved Jemma over. “I’m so sorry, I was just-” 

“Don’t worry about it Jemma. Besides,” She sent Jemma a sly smile. “I know you want to impress Captain America.” 

Jemma nearly choked on the bite she‘d just taken, her cheeks burning anew. “I-I was not!” 

“Sure you weren’t.” Daisy took another bite. “You ready for the mission tomorrow?” 

“Of course.” Jemma finally cleared her throat, taking a bite. She smiled. “I’m always ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote is from _Pride and Prejudice_ if you didn't know. After this chapter, I'll try for weekly updates or sooner if possible. Until next time :)


	3. Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Chapter 3!

_Jemma…Jemma help me…_

_“Will?” Wind whipped at her hair, the sand in the air feeling like small needles as it hit her exposed skin. She squinted into the dim blue landscape and pulled her cut up blouse over her mouth. “Will is that you?”_

__

_Jemma…_

__

_She spun around as the gravelly voice whispered in her ear. Between the howling wind and her pounding heart, Jemma was surprised she’d heard it all at. “Will!”_

__

_“Jemma, please help me…”_

__

_Coming out of the sandstorm was a familiar dark haired figure and he watched clutching his side. Brown eyes widened when they met her hers._

__

_“Will!” She ran forward, nearly collapsing under his weight as he stumbled. “I’m here. Let’s get back underground.”_

__

_Before they could take more than a few steps, Jemma felt a force rip her away from him. She skidded and rolled along the ground, her skin being scraped raw. Pulling herself to her feet she noticed the hooded figure holding Will up by his throat. “Put him down!”_

__

_Will clawed at the hand, his face turned a deep shade of purple. “Jemma run…”_

__

_“No!” Jemma stumbled toward him. “Put him down now!” Hands wrapped around her arms and began to drag her away. She turned to look, surprised to find Fitz and Daisy with worried expressions. “Stop it! What are you doing?!”_

_“You need to come back, Jemma.” They replied in sync. “Come home…”_

_“Will!” She fought against their hold, tears blurring her vision. “Will!”_

_She watched in horror as the hooded figure sank his free hand into Will’s chest and with one swift motion twisted and pulled, a bloody lump of flesh in its pale hand. “No! Will!”_

_She couldn’t shake off their hands, even as Will’s prone body and the figure disappeared. “Will!”_

Jemma’s eyes snapped open, a hoarse scream leaving her throat as she sat up abruptly. She choked a sob as she tried to kick off the sheets tangled in her legs. She hadn’t had a nightmare in weeks…and then Daisy had mentioned Lash, her thoughts taking an unwanted route. It had been nearly seven months since Fitz and Coulson had come back with the news that Will had died to return her to them. 

And now the thought of Will was bringing back all the memories of the months they’d spent together, of his kisses, of his fingers tracing patterns down her bare back… She curled into a ball, her arms wrapped around her drawn up legs, face wet with tears as she rested her forehead on her knees. 

The sound of the door opening had her head snapping up. Her watery vision gave her only a silhouette, but the metal arm glinting under the dim light coming from the hallway gave her an identity. “James, what are-” 

“Are you alright? I heard you scream.” 

Jemma’s already flushed face darkened as she wiped tears away with the back of her right hand. She ran that hand through her damp hair and reached over to turn on the light. “It was just a nightmare.” 

His eyes were still scanning the room when the light brought him into focus, the gun he’d pulled out being slipped back into the waistband of his sweats. 

Jemma should’ve been concerned that he’d been pointing a gun into her room or by the fact that all rooms had been soundproofed to the average person and that the only way he could’ve heard her was if he’d been listening for her. Instead, the only thing she could think was that he was watching over her, protecting her. 

“I’m sorry…” He shifted his weight. “For barging in.” 

“No, no it’s fine…I understand why.” Jemma leaned back against her headboard and looked over at the clock. 3:56 am. There was little point in going back to sleep when she would only wake up in an hour. She motioned to the end of her bed. “You can sit if you want.” 

His brow furrowed. “Don’t you have a mission?” 

“I’ll start getting ready in an hour.” 

He stared at the bed, then at her, then at the bed. 

“Oh come on…I won’t bite.” She sat cross-legged and patted the sheets. She picked up _Pride & Prejudice._ “I can even to read to you.” 

“I can still read.” He almost sounded insulted. 

“I know that.” She laughed. “Sometimes it’s nice to just listen.” 

He again had that contemplative look from the night before, almost like he was weighing his options. A minute passed in silence before he finally sat on the far edge of her bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

She flipped to the first page, aware of his eyes on her as she cleared her throat and began to read. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife…” 

Jemma had gotten through three chapters by the time 5:00 rolled around and smiled when she noticed he’d moved a little closer to her. She shut the book as he got to his feet. “So how did you like it so far?” 

He paused by the door, his lips slightly turned up. “Mr. Darcy is a pompous ass.” 

Jemma laughed loudly, glad she could bring more life back into him. “Yeah, right now he is.” She set the book on the bedside table and turned around to once again find him right behind her. That ghost of a smile was gone, replaced with something unreadable. “What is it?” 

“Be careful.” 

“Trust me, I’m always careful.” 

“Hydra has laid traps in that lab. I was…unable to enter and Steve got what he could see, but some might have slipped past our notice.” 

That was probably the most words she’d ever heard him speak. She tried to keep her nerves from showing as she responded to him, his words creating a knot in her stomach. “Thank you, James. I’ll keep an eye out.” 

He went to leave but stopped by the door. “Thank you for the sandwich Jemma.” 

She blushed as she tucked an errant strand of hand back behind her ear. “You’re welcome.” 

It took a few moments after he left for her to start getting ready. After a short shower, she pulled on her combat gear, redid the wrappings her left hand, and walked to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast. 

Daisy was pouring herself a cup of coffee, eyes brightening when she saw her friend. “Morning Jemma…sleep well?” 

“I’m a bit anxious…it’s been a while since I’ve gone on a mission.” She didn’t bother telling Daisy of the nightmare that was the real reason behind her nerves. She didn’t want the look of pity she’d gotten when the pain of Will’s death had been raw instead of this constant dull ache in her chest. 

“Well grab something quick. Bobbi’s getting the jet ready.” 

James’ warning repeated itself as she and Daisy stepped onto the plan. Jemma could feel his eyes on her, the doors closing before she could catch a glimpse of him. Snap out of it Jemma! The flight was supposed to be short, so as soon as Bobbi switched on the autopilot, she came over to Daisy and Jemma to relay the plan. 

Jemma tried to pay attention to what Bobbi was saying, even though she knew the plan back to front. Bobbi and Daisy would scout ahead, looking for anyone who may have been stupid enough to return. Jemma would then enter the lab when the base was secured. 

“You sure you’re okay Jemma?” Daisy’s snapped her from her roaming thoughts. 

Jemma loaded the cartilage into the ICER and holstered it at her hip. “Yeah I’m fine.” 

“You didn’t say a word earlier. You usually always have a question or something.” 

It was true. Jemma always had something to add. “It’s fine Daisy…really.” 

“If you say so.” 

What was left of the short flight passed in silence and Jemma felt the knot in her stomach return as Daisy and Bobbi exited the aircraft. Jemma listened on the comms, but nothing went wrong and a few minutes later, they ran the all clear. She stepped out of the jet moments later, running a hand through her hair as she got a better look at the base. 

Like most Hydra bases, it appeared to be an old military bunker of some sort. There were a few vehicles that were little more than metal husks that she weaved through. If she looked closer she could see the charred bodies still within them. 

Stepping inside, it appeared as though multiple bombs had been detonated and there were bullet holes littering every wall. Steve and James had really done a number on this place…No glass window or door was whole, the shards crunching beneath her boots as she made her way into the lab, where Bobbi and Daisy were waiting. 

Again, James’ warning was bouncing around in her skull, the nerves that had knotted up her stomach were now lodged in her throat and Jemma didn’t think she could speak without her voice cracking. With steady hands, she slid open the partially cracked door enough that she could squeeze through and entered the lab. 

Other than the bent-out-of-shape door, the blatant destruction hadn’t touched the lab. The power was still on (probably a generator…) and if she closed her eyes, the familiar hum of equipment almost reminded Jemma of the lab she shared with Fitz back at base. 

ZS 397 was what she was looking for and it was supposedly in a small test tube. Considering that there were shelves and shelves of test tubes filling a rather large freezer, she knew she had her work cut out from her. 

While pulling on latex gloves, she looked into the freezer. The glass was clear and Jemma could see no suspicious wiring or components that drew her attention. She opened the freezer, vapor surrounding her as the cold air met the warm air of the lab. Taking a few calming breaths, she began her search. 

GN 382, MB 388, EH 392… She lightly ran her fingers over the vials, reading the small labels on each one. ZS 397. Gotcha. The vial was of a pale, clear turquoise liquid. Reaching into her side pocket, she grabbed a small, specially made, containment pouch and slipped the vial inside. 

The scientist in Jemma itched to see what all the vials in the freezer were, but she had her orders… She pulled off the latex gloves and slipped out of the lab, holding the pouch up with a smile. “I got it.” 

“Okay then.” Bobbi smiled. “Let’s go.” 

As soon as Jemma handed the pouch to Bobbi, her vision began to blur in and out of focus. She blinked, trying to clear it. A wave of drowsiness had her leaning heavily against a wall and she barely registered the worried voices in her ear as she slowly sank to the floor. 

Jemma tried to come up with a diagnosis or even the cause of her symptoms, but her mind was too addled and disoriented to even form a simple sentence, let alone a coherent thought. 

“Jemma!” Daisy…or Bobbi’s voice worried voice reached her ears, hands hauling her body upright so they could begin dragging her back the plane. “Jemma can you hear me?” 

_Jemma, help me…_

Her head shot up, voice slurring. “Will...is that you?” 

A hooded figure appeared at the end of the hallway in response to her question and Jemma frantically tried to pull away from the hands. Didn’t they see that? Didn’t they know they were in danger? “We need to…need to run.” 

“Run from what?” 

She suddenly found her voice. “It killed Will!” She screamed. “It’s going to kill us all!” 

“Jemma calm down. There’s nothing there.” 

The figure disappeared and another wave of sleepiness washed over Jemma, her knees caving beneath her. Her vision dimmed, the last thing she could hear was Will’s voice. 

_Jemma…Jemma help me…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave you on such a cliffhanger...
> 
> Fair warning:The next update might be late because of midterms. Until next time :)


	4. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lateness of this update, but Ihope you guys enjoys.
> 
> WARNING: Torture is mentioned in this chapter.

_Be careful…_

Jemma slowly opened her eyes, finding herself in med bay. That in itself wasn’t as strange as the restraints around her wrists and ankles nor the metal armed assassin with his boots propped up on the end of her bed reading _Pride & Prejudice_.

“I thought I told you to be careful.” He flipped a page.

“And I thought I was being careful…why am I restrained?”

“You were exposed to an incapacitating agent that caused hallucinations…you screamed at anyone who came near you.” His lips tilted upwards. “Attacked me, which shocked pretty much everyone…”

“Oh God…” Her face was bright red and if she had the chance, she would’ve put her head in her hands. It took a moment to realize that if she attacked him then... “Wait…I thought you avoided people.”

“I knew what you’d been exposed to.”

That made sense. She looked down at her hands, noticing that her right hand was now wrapped up. Clenching it into a fist, she felt a stiffness in her fingers. There was little discomfort, but there were definitely pain killers at work. “What happened to my hand?”

“You punched me.”

“Why?”

“You were screaming. Kept switching between Gaelic and English…I honestly couldn’t understand most of what you said.”

_Jemma help me…_

Jemma shook the voice from her head. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay…I knew what you were going through.” He closed the book and set it on the bed, his cobalt eyes settling on some faraway point. His left hand clenched into a fist.

She watched the metal plating shift, the only thing about him that was moving. It was eerie how still he held himself, even for a sniper. Jemma was almost afraid of moving herself. She felt as though it was the moment of silence before the explosion, except for the fact that the moment was drawn out for nearly an entire minute before he came back with a shudder and sharp intake of breath. “James?”

His eyes were full of something that chilled her blood, a darkness that she’d seen in men like Ward. There was no emotion shining through the blue depths, nothing that hinted at a soul she knew was beneath…then with a blink, the light flickered back.

Her concern wasn’t well hidden if his furrowed brow was anything. Jemma offered him a brittle smile that he undoubtingly saw through, trying to brush of that piercing gaze. “Are you alright?”

“Unpleasant memories.” He leaned over her, deftly unstrapping the restraints.

She shivered when warm fingers brushed over the insides of her wrists, goosebumps travelling up her arms. Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, Jemma quickly steered the conversation away from its current route. She brought a trembling hand to her mouth as she yawned. “How long was I asleep?”

“You’ve been in and out for consciousness for three days.” He sat back in the chair.

She couldn’t hide her shock. “So long?”

“This particular strand of incapacitating agent had no known antidote. Your team had to wait it out.” In one smooth movement, he was back on his feet. “Speaking of your team. I will let Coulson know you’re awake.”

Jemma pushed herself into a sitting position, still a bit drowsy. “I’ll be seeing you then.”

With a small smile and nod, he left.

Jemma let out a loud breath as soon as the door shut, still feeling the gentle touches on her wrists… God she was like a giggling schoolgirl again, blushing at the drop of a hat. She ran her fingers through her hair and decided she would take a nice, long, hot shower. That would clear her head…

“Look who’s awake.” Daisy entered the room with a wide smile, relief clear in her eyes. She sat down in the chair that James had occupied and place a hand on her leg. “Don’t scare me like that again…”

“I’m sorry.”

“You couldn’t have known that they would booby trap the freezer door.”

The freezer door? Then it clicked in her mind...of course. There shouldn’t have been that much vapor when she opened the door… “But I should’ve known something was wrong.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself Jemma. You can’t know everything…”

“What happened…?” Even though she’d gotten the answer from James, she wanted to hear it from someone else’s point of view. “After I blacked out?”

“You were pretty much unresponsive until we got back to base, then we couldn’t get you stop screaming. Bobbi and I had contacted Coulson, who’d talked to Rogers and Barnes. They were there when we dragged you out of the plane. You saw Barnes and just…went ballistic.”

This time, Jemma covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God…”

“Got one hit in before he restrained you.” Daisy smiled. “You should’ve seen Rogers’ face…it was priceless. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Coulson so flustered…”

“How did Barnes react?” It felt odd to be referring to James on a last name basis, but Daisy didn’t really know about the other occasions. She would find it odd if Jemma suddenly started calling the Winter Soldier James.

“Weirdly enough…I think he actually smiled for, like, half a second.” Daisy appeared to be thinking deeply. “I think that was mainly due to the fact that besides Coulson and Rogers, everyone was too stunned to do anything. I think Hunter thought Barnes was gonna lose it.”

Jemma was sure that Hunter wasn’t the only one who came to that conclusion. “Did he?”

“No he didn’t.” Daisy leaned back in the chair. “He kept you restrained until you were sedated, then he said something to Rogers before disappearing to God knows where.”

“Has anyone looked at the ZS 397 yet?”

“No, we figured you would want to do it yourself.”

“When will I be able to start looking at it?”

“Jemma, you just woke up.” Daisy smiled fondly. “Coulson will want you to rest another day before starting work again. You can’t do much with a battered hand.”

Jemma look down at the bruising peeking out from beneath the wrapping. “How hard did I hit him anyways?” She slowly flexed her fingers.  

“Hard enough to hurt yourself, but not hard enough to hurt him. Trust me, though…it was a good hit. If he hadn’t been a super soldier, you might’ve left a mark.”

“Well, if I’m not allowed to work…am I at least allowed a shower?”

“Of course.” Daisy stood up. “It’ll have to be the shower here in med bay, though. They said you might still be a little drowsy.”

Jemma swung her legs over the side. “That’s fine.”

“What would you like me to grab?”

“Sweatpants and tank top is fine.”

“Will do.”

Jemma got to her feet slowly, pleased that she didn’t get the least bit light headed. She grabbed latex gloves and tape to cover her bandages before entering the bathroom and shutting the door. She removed the hospital gown and covered her hands before turning on the water.

The nearly scalding water felt amazing on her skin and Jemma took her time as she lathered her body and combed through her scalp, ignoring the slight pain from her hands. She breathed in the steam, standing under the spray as the grim from the last three days swirled down the drain.

Someone knocked on the door. “It’s Daisy.”

“Come in.”

The door opened. “I’ll set your clothes by the sink.”

“Okay thanks.”

The door closed and a few moments later, Jemma turned off the water. She stepped out of the shower and quickly towel dried her body and hair. Removing the gloves, she slipped on her undergarments and sweatpants and was about to pull on her tank top when she saw the scars on her stomach.

_“You will tell me everything I need to know.” Ward crouched at eye level. His dark eyes were filled with rage, voice brittle. “Right. Now.”_

_Jemma only steeled herself and glared._

_“Do you understand me?!” Ward roared as he pulled up the hem of her shirt, exposing her stomach while he unsheathed a dagger. “Do you!”_

_“No!” She tried to pull away as she felt the cool metal against her bruise-littered skin. “No!”_

_She screamed as he cut deep into her flesh over and over and over again…the pain reaching a crescendo as her forced her to her feet, cut away the restraints, and shoved her face-first onto the floor. She clawed at the ground as he resumed the torture on her back, grinding the fresh wounds into the dirty floor._

_The torture ended pain filled minutes later as Ward took the last of his anger out her. He pulled her back up and proceeded to clumsily wrap a thick bandage around her stomach. “Wouldn’t want you dying on us now would we?”_

_“Go to hell.” She spat._

_He only laughed as he restrained her wrists once more. “Let’s get you to Malick.”_

Jemma was snapped from the memory as a knock sounded on the door.

“You alright in there Jemma?” Daisy’s concerned voice came through.

“Yeah. Give me a second.” She pulled on her tank top and combed through her hair once more. She slipped on a pair of Daisy’s flip-flops before stepping out and meeting Daisy. “Hey.”

“Feeling better?”

“Tons.” Jemma smiled. “Any chance I can get some food? I’m famished.”

They made their way to the kitchen and were immediately intercepted as they entered by a very apologetic Captain America.

“I would like apologize for putting you in harm’s way, Miss Simmons. Bucky and I thought we’d removed all of the planted devices-”

Jemma held up a hand, smiling. “Apology accepted Captain.”

“In that case…” He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush coming to his cheeks. “I made you and your team dinner, beef stew...if you want it.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow. “Captain America can cook?”

Jemma smiled. “Of course, I would love some Steve.”

“I’ll go get the others.” Daisy ran off before either could say a word.

“I’ll get the glasses, you get the bowls?”

Steve grins. “Sounds good.”

While he got the bowls from the top shelf on the other side of the kitchen, she reached for the second shelf for the glasses and pulled down two at a time. She counted off how many she would need in her head and was pulling down the last one when she felt a feather-light touch on the small of her back where her shirt had ridden up.

“What happened?”

Jemma once again found James right behind her. She quickly pulled down her shirt, but she was sure he’d seen the lines on her stomach if his narrowed eyes were anything to go by. “I’d rather not talk about it.” She went to brush past him, “Now let me just fill these-”   

His fingers curled around her bicep gently. “Jemma…”

“Ready with those glasses Jemma?” Steve called.

“I’ll be right there!” She tugged on her arm. “James, please let me go.”

His lips tightened into a line, but he said nothing as he dropped his hand and left the kitchen to join the others at the two tables that Steve and pulled together so everyone could fit. Stacking the cups, she walked out into the dining area and began setting glasses at each place, hesitating when she reached James’ seat. Finished with that, she took her seat between Daisy and Fitz, and could feel those dark blue eyes on her throughout dinner. _This is going to be a long night…_


	5. Distractions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Chapter 5! Enjoy!

After dinner, James just vanished. Jemma tried not to be too hurt about it as she cleared the table with help from Daisy. She didn’t have the energy to converse anymore tonight and claimed drowsiness so she could retire early.

She collapsed onto her bed and stared at the ceiling, absentmindedly counting the number of tiles. Jemma couldn’t help but feel as though she’d shut him out and that he might’ve been hurt by it. Why though? He’d done the same thing to her when he…zoned out. She knew it’d been more than just an ‘unpleasant memory’… She knew people shut themselves down when they had flashbacks, but he’d taken it to a new level. It had looked like everything had been sucked out of him, leaving behind an uninhabited body…an empty vessel.

Jemma shook her head furiously, trying to shut off her brain. She’d always had the problem of an overactive mind, it had caused many sleepless nights. It seemed like tonight would be one of those nights…

Sighing, Jemma slipped off her bed and into the bathroom. Stripping out of her clothes, she grabbed the bubble bath from beneath the sink and put the drain down before turning on the faucet. She poured the bubble bath into the water, watching the bubbles form.

While waiting for the tub to fill, she found herself staring at the scars again. Normally, she would just ignore them…pretending that they and the horrible experience that created them didn’t exist, if only for a short time. She ran her fingers over the slightly raised lines, remembering the look in Bobbi’s eyes when she’d told her that the marks would scar… Damn James for bringing these memories back! Why did he have to ask about them? Why did he have to draw her attention back to something she tried so hard to forget?

Turning back to the bath, she was pleased to see it halfway filled. She pulled on gloves to cover the bandages before she sank into the bubbly water with a sigh, watching the steam rise and curl in the air. She turned the water off before dunking her head under, combing her fingers through her hair.

The warmth slowly soaked into her skin with each passing second, but the normally relaxed feeling she would be feeling by now still wasn’t there. She was still tense, her mind still running through the last week. Jemma found herself reanalyzing each miniscule expression James had made in her presence, trying to figure him out, but he was as unreadable as May… God, what was she doing? She needed to find something to occupy her mind.

Her first option would’ve been her work, but that was off the table. She could reorganize her bookshelf for probably the millionth time or read _Pride & Prejudice_ yet again… Jemma dunked herself underneath the water again before pulling the plug on the drain and stepping out. After wrapping a towel around herself, she looked at the clock. The bath had killed about twenty-five minutes.

Pulling on pajamas, she decided to read. While she still hadn’t relaxed at all, the book had used up almost three hours. Slipping her bookmark between the pages, she set it on her bedside table. Organizing her bookshelf had killed another hour and a half.

It was now 1:33 am… She pulled on warm clothes and a pair of thick wool socks before sliding on boots she would normally wear during a mission, they kept her feet warm no matter the temperature. Folding a blanket over her arm, she quietly made her into the kitchen and made a thermos of chamomile and swiped her ID card at the entrance to the roof.

Like she’d hoped, the night sky was clear. The three-quarter moon cast a faint silvery glow over the wooded landscape and Jemma wrapped the thick blanket around her shoulders as she took a deep breath of crisp cool air, her legs dangling over the edge.  

Familiar constellations stared down on her, the most visible including Ursa Major, Leo, and (ironically) Hydra. To be under a sky she could recognize was another thing on the ever growing list of things that she would never be able thank Will enough for. The ache in her chest was back and Jemma tried to push it away with another swig of tea. The last thing her overactive brain needed to think about was Will…

“What are you doing up here?”

Jemma started, clutching the thermos for dear life. She turned around, setting the thermos down and swinging her legs back over the side so she could stand. She wanted to say something along the lines of “ _So_ now _you’re talking to me?”_ , but knew that would be childish. Pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she responded. “Just looking at the sky.”

Jemma peered into the shadows on the roof, catching the moonlight glint off the chromed metal. She’d never known someone who could completely melt into the dark and Jemma knew that if he hadn’t spoken, she never would’ve known he was there…

He stepped out of the darkness, but the shadows seemed to cling to him in the silvery light of the moon. His hair wasn’t pulled back, the inky strands surrounding his face in a dark halo. His blue eyes were almost black as he came towards her. “Why?”

“Gives me a distraction.” She noted with concern that he was currently barefoot. “What are you doing out here?”

“Following you.” He stated, as if the answer was obvious.

“I’m fine James…really, you don’t have to watch me.” She returned to where she’d been sitting, noticing that he hadn’t moved. She sighed and patted the stone to the right of her. “But if you want to, you can sit here.”

There was no sound, but a shadow fell over her as he sat down. Jemma quickly discovered that he was practically a furnace, the heat soaking into her side through the blanket. That is except for the metal arm, which seemed as cold as the air surrounding it. Figuring he wouldn’t want attention drawn to it, she instead looked up at the sky. “Do you know any constellations?”

He nodded. “I use them for navigation.”

“But do you know the _stories_ behind them?”     

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Most are centered on Greek mythology.” She pointed to Regulus. “I’m sure you recognize Regulus, it’s one of the brightest stars in the sky…” Jemma smiled, “But it’s also the brightest star in the constellation of Leo, known as the Heart of the Lion.”

His eyes followed the path she drew from Leo’s head to curled tail. “What Leo’s story?”

“According to Greek mythology, Leo was a ferocious lion who fell to the earth in the forests of Nemaea. He killed animals and humans alike and many hunters had died trying to kill the lion. You see...his skin was so tough that their weapons couldn’t pierce it.” She took a drink of tea. “Hercules, a child of the god Zeus, was given the task of killing the lion by Zeus’ jealous wife, Hera, in hopes that he would fail, thus losing his father’s love.”  

James raised an eyebrow.

She waved off the look. “I know. I know…the gods and goddesses were an interesting bunch. Anyways, on with the story.” Jemma inched closer to him. “You see, Hercules knew that arrows and spears wouldn’t work, so he snuck into Leo’s cave and strangled the lion. He came out of the cave wearing its skin as a robe. This was seen as an act of great heroism by Zeus so he placed the picture of the defeated lion in the night sky,”

“That’s quite a… _interesting_ story.”

“If you think that’s interesting, then I should tell you to story of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, also known as The Big Bear and The Little Bear.” She once again pointed to Polaris, better known as the North Star. “The North Star is a part of the Ursa Major constellation. Ursa Minor is right above Ursa Major.” She again connected the stars with her fingers, glad that his sharp eyes could see the pictures she was drawing. Most people had trouble with that. “In Greek mythology, Zeus had many human girlfriends, but his favorite was the beautiful nymph Callisto. His secret visits to earth to meet with her only added to Hera’s jealousy and determination to get revenge against these women.”

“This Zeus guy doesn’t sound so great.”

“Well, one day, as Zeus was walking through the forest with Callisto, he saw his wife Hera coming. Unable to hide Callisto in time, he turned her into a large brown bear.”

“Not very smart either…”

“ _Anyways_ …When Hera arrived, she saw only Zeus walking by himself. She looked around, searching for someone with Zeus, but saw only an old brown bear. She still didn’t trust Zeus and insisted that he return, but Zeus didn’t want to go because he wanted to change Callisto back into her human form before leaving. Hera insisted, so Zeus went with Hera, leaving Callisto as a large brown bear. Only he didn’t know that Callistos’ son, Arcas, was out hunting in the woods.” Jemma couldn’t stop the yawn from escaping, the drowsiness that she’d been fighting all night finally catching up with her.

“Tired?”

She could’ve sworn he smiled, but when she yawned again he donned that concerned expression he always seemed to have around her. “Yeah, a little, but I can at least finish the story.” Jemma didn’t need to look at him to know that he was skeptical. “I’m serious.”

“Okay…go ‘head.”

“When Arcas came across this brown bear, he put an arrow in its heart. The bear transformed back into his mother and Arcas began to cry for his mother and what he had done to her. Of course, when he realized that it was Zeus that had changed her into the bear, he grew even angrier and Zeus, fearing that Hera might hear the cries, went down to earth to try to appease Arcas.” Jemma found herself leaning against the cool metal of his arm, trying to fight the sleepiness.

He stiffened, but didn’t move her away.

“In order to hide what he had done, Zeus changed Callisto back into a bear and placed her form, as a constellation, into the northern sky as the Big Bear and changed Arcas into the Little Bear. As Arcas was being placed into the sky, he turned to look at his mother. That’s why the Little Bear is curved toward the Big Bear, so that…” She yawned. “Arcas can watch over his mother for all eternity.”

“Alright, you need to go to bed.”

“I want to stay a little bit longer.” The metal beneath her cheek had grown warm from her skin and she could her the soft sounds of small gears and component’s within. It was calming in a way, reminding her of the whirring of lab equipment. “Please?”

He nodded, securing the blanket around her shoulders. He began to hum something that reminded Jemma of another time.

It was his humming that finally lulled her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stories about the constellations were found on Google. Thanks for reading! Until next time :)


	6. Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this was late. I had a psychology paper that took up all my writing time. Enjoy!  
>  
> 
> WARNING: Torture and medical experimentation are mentioned.

Jemma woke up in her bed, tucked in with her shoes and socks removed. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and tapped the base of the lamp to turn it on. She half-expected to have her newly acquired shadow nearby, but the room was empty. Stretching, she looked at the clock. 10:30 am.  


After showering and getting dressed for the day, Jemma removed the wrappings on her hands. The bruises and swelling on her right hand would go down in a few days and nothing was broken so she decided to leave them off. She rewrapped her left hand. The burns would heal completely in a few days…  


Jemma decided to walk down to Coulson’s office. Maybe she could convince him to let her go back to work. Maybe then, her mind would have something else to focus on. She went to knock on the door, but found it open. Seemed Coulson was in a particularly good mood. She peeked her head around the corner. “Director…can I talk to you?”  


He nodded and the moment she stepped into the room said. “Is this you asking to start working on ZS 397?”  


She smiled sheepishly. “Yes?”  
Coulson leaned back in his chair. “There’s no point to trying get you to start tomorrow?”  


“I can’t be stationary…I need to do something.”  


He smiled at her exasperation. “I guess I’ll give you the go ahead…try not to burn yourself again.”  


She laughed. “Thank you Coulson!” She turned quickly, excited to finally be able to get back to work, and ran into what felt like a brick walk, falling back from the force. Two hands, one warm and one cold, circled her arms as she was pulled up against what she thought had been a wall, but instead a warm and very broad chest. Oh bloody hell… She knew her face was bright red when he released her. “I’m ah…I’m so sorry. I just was excited to get back to work and uh…I wasn’t looking where I was going and-”  


“Are you okay?”  


She was thankful for the interruption. Jemma played with the hem of button up, trying to still her shaking hands. Why was she always so clumsy around him? “I'm fine. You?”  


His lips tilted up, amused by the question.  


“Right…that was a dumb question.” She brushed an errant strand behind her ear. “Are you going to talk to Coulson?”  


Like a switch had been flipped, he donned an eerily flat expression and nodded.  


She tried to ignore the fact that she’d said something wrong. “Okay then. I’ll let you go.” Without another word, she stepped around and continued, much slower than before, to the lab, her excited mood dimmed. Why was James going to talk to Coulson? Was there something wrong? Then she remembered that last he’d worn that expression…  


_His eyes were full of something that chilled her blood, a darkness that she’d seen in men like Ward. There was no emotion shining through the blue depths, nothing that hinted at a soul she knew was beneath…then with a blink, the light flickered back._  


_“Unpleasant memories.” He leaned over her, deftly unstrapping the restraints._  


He’d remembered something. Something that was important enough to talk to Coulson about. If the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had to be told, then whatever had been remembered couldn’t have been anything good, not if James felt the need to shut off.  


When Jemma entered the lab, she shoved these thoughts to the back of her mind. She didn’t need any distractions while she worked. She washed her hands and put on her lab coat, gloves, and goggles before reaching into the glass case and pulling out the vial.  


It was like breathing, the way that Jemma slipped back into working a lab. There were no distractions or stumbles…that is until she received the chemical make-up of the clear liquid. There various body enhancing drugs, large amounts of testosterone, a couple of different blood boosters, and stimulants. It looked as though a child threw this concoction together because they wanted to make someone super strong… Was this a botched attempt at the super soldier serum? But if HYDRA had this, wouldn’t they have tested it on…wait.  


She ran to Coulson’s office and pounded on the door, out of breath.  


Coulson opened the door with a concerned expression. “What is it?”  


“I need Barnes’ medical file.”  


His eyebrows shot up. “Why?”  


“Because I think the ZS 397 is the serum that HYDRA used on him. I need to compare my results to those in the file.” 

She almost expected to be asked for more detail or if she was sure, but Coulson only opened a compartment in his desk and punched in a code before pulling out a tattered manila folder. “You must not share this information with anyone Jemma…Captain’s orders.”  


She nodded, taking the file from his hand. Дело № 17 was written on the front along with messy scrawled Cyrillic written below it. Her fingers traced the indents the pen had made decades before. “I’m assuming most of this is written in Cyrillic…are there any translations?”  


Coulson nodded. “Romanov has included her translations of the content. They’re at the end of the file. I’ll have to warn you though Jemma, some of the things they did to him…”  


“I can handle it Coulson.”  


His face was set in a grim expression and he nodded. “Alright then.”  


Clutching the file to her chest, she hurried out of the office and returned to the lab. Judging by the weight of the file, it would be a long read. She slipped the file into her bag and put away the vial and cleaned the used equipment and her head before she shrugged out of her lab coat a hung it on a rack. She washed her hands, grabbed her bag and returned to her quarters.  


She kicked off her shoes and sat cross legged on the bed before setting the closed file down in front of her. Coulson’s warning at her just staring at it for a minute before she took a deep breath and slowly opened it.  


On the inside of the cover was a glossy colored photograph, showing James’ slack face through a frosted pane of glass. His pale skin was cast with ghostly blue light from inside the capsule that reminded her of his eyes. He must’ve been held in a cryogenic chamber in between missions, as a way to keep him from aging…  


Her eyes were drawn to a yellowed photograph clipped to the corner.  


It had to have been taken before he'd been shipped overseas. It was a portrait of him is his dress uniform, eyes gleaming mischievously and a rakish smile curling his lips. This was Bucky Barnes, the charmer with a girl on each arm, or so she'd heard from the many documentaries that Coulson had. This man smiled easily and laughed loudly…  


James’ face might as well have been made of stone for all the expression he showed now. Those smiles she’d gotten from him were only slivers, the light in those dark blue eyes was dimmer. Whatever had been done to him had taken parts of him away…  


She pulled away from those thoughts and instead focused on the rest of the folder’s content. The next part of folder were old papers riddled with typed Cyrillic overlapped with written Cyrillic, so she immediately skipped to the end where there was a set of notes on crisp lined paper. The writing was neatly printed.

_November 14th 1944_  


_Subject 397 was recovered at 0900 hours with its left arm torn off at the median of the humerus and massive blood loss. 397 regained consciousness briefly while on transport and again when brought into the lab, reacting violently when the remainder of the left arm was removed without anesthetic due to newfound immunity against drugs. Further testing is required._  


Jemma knew she should’ve stopped reading then, knew that James was Subject 397 and that ZS 397 was the serum he was injected with, but she found herself reading on.  


_December 20th 1944_  


_Subject 397 continues to be uncooperative, disobeying orders. Water boarding was implemented for nearly an hour before 397 lost consciousness. When 397 regained consciousness, it was strapped into the Chair for cognitive recalibration. After nearly ninety minutes, 397 had screamed itself hoarse yet continued to disobey. Further measures must be taken._  


_January 16th 1945_  


_Today, 397’s immunity towards poison and drugs has proven to be rather high. Tested a new strand of 3-Quinuclidinyl benzilate. Subject 397 exhibited violent behavior from vivid hallucinations and after exposure to high amounts, began to expel blood from its stomach and lungs before suffering from blood loss and falling unconscious._  


Jemma, horrified, threw down the file. This was what he meant by ‘knowing what she’d gone through’. He’d been a lab rat to the scientists, something to punish him with for his disobedience. To test new drugs and weapons on because he could heal from them. She couldn’t begin to guess what they meant by 'cognitive recalibration', but guessed it was the reason he struggled to remember. No wonder he never stepped foot into a lab. She would understand if he never did so again. These were only the first two months of his capture…he’d suffered like this for nearly seventy years.  


She flipped the translations over, deciding to forgo reading anymore because if she did, she would be tempted to rip apart the paper in anger. Jemma wanted to do that more than anything, but these were important papers and she needed to return them as she’d been given them. That and she still needed to read the rest of the translations.  


There were pictures not clipped to messily scrawled notes, so Jemma pulled them out. She regretted it almost immediately.  
James had been caged like nothing more than an animal, his stub of a left arm the only thing covered his abused body. In the pictures, his back had been whipped to the bone, each picture timing the progression of his body’s ability to heal itself.  


Then there was a picture of what she assumed was the Chair. The chair had a strange contraption attached to the back, two beams rising up and supporting a broken circle. She noticed the mass of plugs and wires coming out the contraption, connecting to something that hadn’t been in the camera’s frame. The picture stapled with this one showed James restrained to the chair, with a mouth guard in and plates pressed to each of his temples. The veins and cords of muscle in his neck were clearly visible as he strained against the chair. She could tell he was screaming…  


Nauseated, Jemma stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, hunching over the toilet as she emptied her stomach. Tears streamed down her face as she choked on a sob. That file…it was just too much to take in, too much to process.  


Brushing her teeth and rinsing out her mouth, she splashed her face with cold water and dried it with a towel. Without looking, she picked up the scattered pictures and somehow managed to put them in the order she had found them. She tucked the file in the drawer of her bedside table, closed it, and shut off the lamp, hoping that maybe…just maybe she could get some sleep.  


Jemma knew herself too well to think that that would actually be possible. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I am not as smart as Jemma, so I kind of made up the components of the serum. I hope that what I've written will suffice. Until next time... :)


	7. Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here another chapter! Hope you readers enjoy it!
> 
> Warning: Panic attack occurs in the beginning of this chapter.

_Jemma found herself restrained to a table, the bright light shining in her eyes silhouetting the men standing over her. Her left shoulder throbbed painfully as she feebly pulled at the leather straps around her ankles and right arm. She looked over to see what was causing the pain._

_Her left arm was completely torn away, the broken bone protruding from the shredded muscle and ribboned skin, blood pooling beneath…_

Jemma’s eyes snapped open and she screamed, frantically feeling for her left arm. She was relieved to feel intact bone, skin, and muscle, but even then she couldn’t stop the shaking. Her body tremored with the aftershock of the nightmare and the images that had caused it. She found herself struggling to breath, her lungs spasming as they failed to inhale and exhale. Tears streamed down her face as her chest burned for air.

James came into the room once again, this time without a gun. Those sharp eyes found her immediately, but widened slightly when he saw her struggling to pull air in. He was at her side in an instant, sitting next to her, a warm hand forcing her to sit upright, the cool metal lifting up her chin so their eyes met. His voice was calm and carried that lilt she’d heard earlier. “Jemma you need to take a deep breath…can you do that?”

She tried to, but her throat tightened up. She shook her head, the panic causing her heart-rate to spike. “I can’t…I can’t…I’m trying to, I-”

Gently taking her trembling left hand into his, he rested it on his chest. Beneath the warm skin and hard muscle, she could feel his heart _thump_ steadily beneath her fingers. “Focus on my heartbeat. Just focus and try to calm down…”

A long couple of minutes passed before Jemma could finally calm down enough to breathe deeply, realizing at that moment that her hand was still splayed over his heart that was still beating steadily. She pulled back, blushing furiously. “Th-thank you James.”

“What was it about?”

She almost thought to brush him off again, but she didn’t have to energy to. Jemma tried to gather herself. “It was about you…” She saw him flinch away, but then in a rush, added, “What they did to you.”

He still seemed ready to bolt.

“The sample that I um…that I grabbed from the lab was ZS 397.” She watched him clench his jaw. “It appeared to be HYDRA’s version of the serum…” She swallowed. “I asked Coulson for your file so I could compare the results that I’d gotten to see if they were the same thing.” She found herself rubbing her hand up and down her left arm, as to reassure herself that it was still attached. “I read about some of the things they did to you-”

“Don’t.” A muscle jumped in his cheek.

Before she could talk herself down, she wrapped her arms around his waist. She felt his entire body lock up. Jemma knew that was a warning, but did nothing except tighten her hold and rest her head against his chest. “I’m sorry James…no one deserved what happened to you.”

He said nothing as he peeled her off him, his face empty of anything. “I don’t need your apologizes Jemma…or your pity.” He turned to leave.

She’d felt like she’d been kicked in the chest. “James…”

He left without another word.

Jemma pulled her knees up to her chest, tears of embarrassment now trickled down her cheeks. Why had she’d done that? He’d said it himself…he didn’t want her pity or her apologies. She knew that he hated being touched without his permission. She knew that doing something as intimate as hug would cause him to push her away. To shut himself off. He probably wouldn’t speak to her or even look at her again. God, she’d really screwed up this time…

Jemma sat curled in a ball as the rest of the base woke up. Finally sliding out of bed, she grabbed a change of clothes and went into the bathroom. She changed the bandages on her left hand and covered them with a glove before she turned on the faucet.

The scalding water felt wonderful on her skin, but did little in the way of ridding her of the lingering images of her nightmares and what had caused them. She knew she had to read more of that horrible file, if only to make sense of what had been done to him. She tasted salt as tears intermingled with the water running down her face…

After the long shower, Jemma stepped out and wrapped a towel around herself, squeezing the access water from her hair. She caught her reflection in the mirror before she left the bathroom.

Her hazel eyes were bloodshot from crying and the shadows beneath showed a lack of sleep. She quickly combed the tangles from her damp hair and went to get dressed when a knock sounded at the door. Jemma tried, and failed, to keep her voice from cracking. She dropped the towel and quickly pulled on undergarments and pants. “Who is it?”

“It’s Daisy.”

“Come in.” She’d just pulled the tank top on when the door opened. She turned to meet her friend’s gaze.

Daisy had always been adept at reading a person. Her dark eyes flooded with concern as she came to stand in front of Jemma. “What’s wrong Jemma?”

Jemma thought of lying, but knew that Daisy would see through it and the energy it would take to even think of something remotely convincing was more than she had. She found tears stinging her eyes as she took a shaky breath. “I did something stupid.”

Daisy sat them both at the end of the bed, her hand resting on her shoulder. “What happened?”

Jemma hesitated. Whatever she and James had was complicated to say the least and she wasn’t sure how to explain something like it to Daisy. But then Daisy had had her own complicated relationships, maybe she would understand…

She started with the first night, how she’d broken through the language barrier, but had her hands scalded in the process. Daisy didn’t interrupt, but her eyes grew sad when Jemma mentioned her nightmare about Will. She told of James’ warning and how he’d been there when she woke up after the mission had gone sideways. Her expression sobered further when Jemma told her James asking about her scars and their night on the roof. She ended with what she’d discovered about ZS397 and how she’d gotten Barnes medical file from Coulson. She didn’t provide any detail of what James had gone through by HYDRA’s hands, but her cold tone of voice told Daisy all she needed to know. Jemma finally broke down when she repeated what James had said to her before he’d left, tears once again trailing down her cheeks.

Daisy was quiet for a moment, running her hand up and down Jemma’s back. “I don’t believe you did anything wrong Jemma.”

“But I did! I knew how closed off he was. I knew-”

“Jemma,” Daisy cut in. “How did you feel when he asked about the scars?”

“I was scared...and ashamed. I didn’t want to talk about what had happened.”

“Imagine how he felt when you read about all the things done to him. His past is written down for all to read and judge…in great detail. He doesn’t want apologies or pity from anyone because he doesn’t believe he deserves it.”

“He deserves to have people care about him. I...care about him.”

Daisy smiled. “I know you do Jemma, I know. But you’ve closed yourself off from him, not told him anything of your past when you know most of his. I think you need to open up to him. Talk to him about Will…or Ward. Something that shows him that you’re willing to share something about yourself.”

“I don’t know Daisy…”

Daisy squeezed her shoulder. “From what you’ve told me, he cares for you…in his own way. If you find him and talk to him, you might be surprised.”

“He’s probably avoiding me. If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be…at least by me.”

Daisy’s smile turned mischievous. “I know someone who knows where he is.”

“Who?”

“Steve Rogers of course.”

Finding Steve wasn’t hard since he kept such a meticulous schedule and the two were able to catch him in the kitchen after his morning run. He seemed to sense that something was up and set his half empty cup of water on the counter, pulling them both aside. “What’s going on…is something wrong?”

“I was wondering if…” She swallowed, suddenly nervous under those blue eyes. “I was wondering if you knew where James was. I need to talk to him.” She was afraid that he would push for details or want to know why she wanted to talk to his friend, but her emotions seemed to be splayed all over her face and he sent her a reassuring smile.

“He and I usually spar after our run…he’s probably getting ready in the training room now.” He leaned back against the counter. “You want me to grab him for you?”

“Could I talk to him alone?”

Blue eyes grew concerned. “You sure?”

“Please…it’s important.”

“Okay then…I’ll give you two some privacy.”

Jemma couldn’t help but blush. “Thank you Steve.”

Before he could respond, Daisy was dragging him off, talking about how she’d always wanted test her powers against his shield. Jemma listened to them walk away with a small smile as she left the kitchen, her nerves back at full force as she told herself to breath.

Her chest still ached from his cold words, the pain almost like a physical blow and she feared what would happen if he did it again. Jemma tried to steel herself, to square her shoulders and take a deep breath. She could hear the sound of hands hitting a punching bag and she peeked her head around the corner.

His back was to her, the gray tank top soaked through with sweat. Jemma watched the muscles of his back and shoulder ripple and flex with each punch. She could also see some the scarring that surrounded the metal of his left arm and how it disappeared beneath the fabric. She jumped as another hit from his left hand broke the chains holding the bag to the ceiling, sand spilling onto the mats.

His shoulder rose and fell once before he slowly turned to meet her gaze. Loose strands of black hair clung to his neck, his normally pale cheeks flush with exertion. Those cobalt eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

Jemma took yet another deep breath, her trembling hands clenched into fists. “James…We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Comment and kudos are appreciated. Until next time :)


	8. Not Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooo sorry for the overdue update. Between needing a new hard drive and finals and tournaments, I have had trouble finding time to write. I hope you enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> WARNING: Mentions of past suicide attempts and suicidal thoughts as well as the beginnings of a panic attack.

“I thought I made it clear about you and your apologies.” He turned to leave.

She grabbed his right wrist with both hands. “Just hear me out.”

He stared down at her hands and easily pulled his arm away, but didn’t leave.

“I realize now…why you’re so angry with me. I had no right.” She swallowed. “I had no right to assume anything, but I _do_ know what it’s like to receive pity and apologies from everyone when they’re the last things I need.” She sighed. “Four years ago, I’d never set foot out of a lab. Then I joined this team…”

He faced her now.

“I hadn’t even been with them for a month before I contracted an alien virus that had already killed three men. I was quarantined in my lab, until my partner, Fitz, decided to help with an antidote. I thought we’d failed and I knew the protocol for this situation. So I incapacitated Fitz and lowered the cargo hold ramp…” She trailed off, knowing by his clenched jaw that he knew what had happened next. “What I didn’t know was that we had figured out an antidote, but I was already falling. My teammate Grant Ward…” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone when she said his name. “Parachuted to me and injected the antidote.”

She laughed bitterly. “Of course, when HYDRA was outed, Ward turned out to be one of them. He forced Fitz and me into a capsule in the cargo hold, where he then sent us to the bottom of the ocean. Fitz saved us both, nearly killing himself in the process. He spent nine days in a coma before waking up with shaking hands and unable to communicate.” She found herself sitting on the bench, him silently listening beside her.

“I had to leave…so I took an undercover mission as a HYDRA scientist. Of course, I nearly died again when my cover was blown. Then everything with the Inhumans happened…and I lost a friend.” Trip’s face flashed in her mind. “Thirteen months ago, Fitz and I were monitoring the Monolith…this large alien rock that the Inhumans were protecting…next thing I knew, I had been sucked though.”

She hated how her voice cracked, how even seven months later, the events that had transpired still ate at her. “It transported me to this…other world.” The nightmare of stinging winds and hooded figures came back. “Everything was this grayish blue color and there were strange stars and planets in the sky…the sun didn’t rise.” She gripped her thighs with her shaking hands. “At first I tried not to move…but I needed to find water…” Her fingers were now digging into her flesh.

Jemma slowly felt herself pulling away as she retold of the six months she’d spent there, trying to keep her emotions from overwhelming her. She’d almost managed it, until she drew near the end: Will losing his chance to go back with, Ward torturing her so her screams could persuade Fitz, and finally broke done when she found that Will had died the second the portal had closed behind her…

She was surprised to find a warm hand cover hers, where her own fingers were undoubtedly leaving bruises on her leg, and loosened their grip. Jemma felt blood rush to her cheeks and didn’t look at him, instead focusing on the warmth of his fingers running over her bandaged knuckles.  Jemma flipped her hand over, intertwining their fingers. She felt him tense up for a moment before she lightly squeezed his hand reassurance.

He squeezed her hand in return.

She stared down at their intertwined fingers, leaning her head against his sweat slicked skin. Jemma smiled when he didn’t tense up. She closed her eyes, savoring their nearness and the quiet for a few heartbeats before meeting his eyes. “Thank you…for listening.”

“Thank you for telling me.” He gave her a small smile.

Reluctantly, she let go his hand and stood. “I guess I’ll leave you to your sparing.” She hadn’t heard him move, but his hand was around her wrist before she’d made in halfway to the door. Looking up, she blushed under his scrutinizing gaze. Why was he looking at her like that?

“I’m sorry…for what I said earlier. I was being an ass.”

“It’s fine.” Jemma brushed a strand of damp hair behind her ear. “Really.”

He seemed to be formulating a response when Steve and Daisy came into the room, Daisy recounting the recent ‘prank war’ that she, Fitz, Hunter, and surprisingly even Bobbi had participated in, showing him a particularly humiliating picture of Bobbi’s revenge on Hunter. 

Jemma watched James’ expression as Steve started laughing, the sound bringing a wistful smile to his lips and chasing away the hardness in his eyes. She was beginning to see more of the man he’d been before the fall...She tried to slip out, but then Daisy ran up to James, showing him the picture as well, and Jemma froze as he chuckled, a deep sound that sent a shiver of… _something_ down her spine. She’d never heard anything resembling a laugh from him since he’d been here and based on Steve’s slightly stunned expression, it had probably been longer than that…

“I take it Bobbi won?” James raised an eyebrow, seemingly oblivious to the effect that he’d just had on the people in the room.

“Of course…I’ll leave you boys to your sparring.” Daisy grabbed Jemma’s wrist and pulled her from the room. It wasn’t until they were out of supersoldier hearing range that she spoke again. “So how did the talk go?”

“It went…good.” Jemma said simply.

“Good? That’s all I’m gonna get?” Daisy kept poking at her with the tablet. “I need details…Did you guys kiss and make up?”

Jemma’s face burned. “N-no, of course not.”

“That reaction says the opposite.” Daisy said in a sing song voice. “Come on Jemma…just tell me. I won’t stop bugging you until you do.”

“What else do you want me to say? I talked and he listened.”

Daisy put her hands up, seeming to sense Jemma’s irritation. “Okay okay…never mind. Let’s just go get breakfast alright?”

Jemma nodded, already thinking ahead. She needed to get a better background on the ZS 397, to see if HYDRA had created anything remotely close to another supersoldier. Which meant she would have to read more of that horrid file… Jemma’s appetite all but vanished when they reached the kitchen. She forced down half a biscuit with some tea before she said goodbye to Daisy and returned to her quarters.

Pulling out the file, she riffled through it until she reached the translations. Jemma closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she began to read where she’d left off.

_March 23 rd, 1945_

_Subject 397 escaped from its cage, nearly killing the guard outside its containment. After several high voltage shocks, 397 was quickly subdued and taken for an hour of cognitive recalibration, after which 397 fell unconscious._

_April 11 th, 1945_

_Subject 397 was given news of Captain Rogers’ death today. 397 went into rage, killing two guards before being brought down. After only forty-five minutes of cognitive calibration, Subject 397’s disobedience is beginning to wane._

_April 30 th, 1945 _

_Subject 397 attempted suicide by slitting its throat, only partially succeeding before the razor was confiscated and was wrestled to the ground by half a dozen men. Due to massive blood loss, 397 fell unconscious. The wound had already begun to heal remarkably fast and the throat was bandaged. Only one transfusion was needed. It has been decided that other subjects be tested in case 397’s instability causes more harm to itself. If these incidents continue, Subject 397 may be terminated._

Jemma didn’t realize she was crying until her tears dripped onto the paper. With trembling hands, she shut the folder, and drew her knees to her chest. She felt disconnected, like every nerve in her body had been deadened at once and didn’t have the energy to move. Choked sobs clawed their way out of her throat and tears continuously streamed down her face.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain James must’ve felt when he’d been told of his childhood friend’s death or how it was knowing that there was no one else to come for him was what finally broke him. Jemma would admit to herself, in the darkest corner of her mind, that if it hadn’t been for Will, she would’ve given up on everything…even her life.

The sound of someone knocking faintly registered in her ears, but she still couldn’t move to answer or stop crying to speak. Which was probably why the metal door groaned as it was forcefully opened by a familiar chromed hand.

She stared, through wide watery eyes as hands cupped her cheeks and forced them to meet his gaze. Jemma knew he was talking to her, trying to figure out what was going on, but she couldn’t respond. She reached out with a shaking hand and rested it against the left side of his neck, where the razor would’ve cut… Finally speaking, she met his eyes once again. “You’re not alone.”

His brow furrowed, clearly not remembering that day. “Neither are you.”

Regaining some control over herself, she again wrapped her arms around him. Maybe it was better that he didn’t know. Pulling back, she wiped the tears from her eyes. “Sorry about that…I know you don’t-”

“It’s fine.” He gave a small smile. “S’not so bad.”

She returned the smile, secretly relieved to hear the Brooklyn drawl return to his voice. Jemma peered over his shoulder, laughing as she took it the warped metal of her door, the dark memories were again returning to the back of her mind.  “Looks like I need a new door.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

“It’s okay. Not the first time.” His expression had morphed into confusion, causing her to laugh once more. “Joey Gutierrez melted one of them on accident a few weeks before you showed up.” She smiled at the memory.

He was looking at the folder next to her, seeming to realize why she’d cried…again. “You’re still reading it?”

She expected him to shut down again or even take the file, but he only looked sad. Jemma put the folder back into her drawer, determined to get that look off his face. “Yeah. I’m uh…working on a hunch.”

He stiffened. “About me?”

“No! No…of course not.” She turned to him and, in a much softer tone, asked. “Why do you always assume I’ll think the worst of you?”

“Most people do after reading that.”

“None of your…missions are in here. I just have the science side of it. And even then…” She walked up to him. “Nothing will make me think any worse of you.”

He didn’t seem to believe her, but gave her a small smile nonetheless. “I guess I’ll leave you then. Let you return to your work.”

“Nonsense. It’s lunchtime and I was going to go down to the kitchen and make myself a sandwich…would you like to join me?”

He stared at her for a moment before nodding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Spring Break has started for me, I will try to post at my usual time next Monday. Until next time :)


	9. Frustration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so sorry about such the long wait. I hit writer's block a few times with this chapter and on top of college golf tournaments, i just haven't gotten around to it. I hope you enjoy this!

Jemma smartly didn’t mention the file or her hunch over lunch and was happy to see his eyes lose that shadow of guilt he carried as soon as his eyes had landed on the file. She watched him inhale the two sandwiches she’d made him while she forced down half of hers. While the thoughts had been shoved back, the images still lingered and she found it hard the finish her meal. Somehow she did and managed a smile before he left to go to the shooting range.

She knocked on Daisy’s door, not looking forward to the conversation she was about to have. Within a few seconds the door slid open and Jemma walked in, noticing Daisy on her laptop. She hadn’t even gotten a word out before Daisy spoke with one eyebrow raised.

“Is this about what happened to your door?”

“How did you-?”

“I created the security system remember?” Daisy pressed a few keys before shutting her laptop, dark eyes reading Jemma like an open book. She patted the mattress. “What happened?”

Jemma brushed a strand hair behind her ear and sat next to Daisy, her eyes fixed on the dark blue sheets. She began picking at a loose thread. “I read more of his file and I started…to freak out.” She didn’t want to drudge up the thoughts again, not when they’d finally gone away. “I couldn’t get up to answer the door and I…I guess he thought something had happened to me.”

“So he bent a reinforced vibranium alloy door to get to you?”

Jemma blushed at Daisy’s knowing tone, shrugging. “I guess so.”

“Well, I’ll go talk to Fitz and Mack right now since Lincoln, Joey, and I are leaving to check on an Inhuman sighting in Paris. We’re leaving tonight…should be back within two days at most.”

“Well good luck and…thanks again, for listening.”

“S’not a problem.” Daisy smiled. “At least you don’t bottle things up.”

Jemma gave a small smile and left before she said or did anything to show how shaken she still was with what had happened…that there _were_ things she kept bottled up. Fitz was the only person who knew the minute details of her months there in the other world, but even he didn’t know just how dark her thoughts had turned, just how hard she’d hit rock bottom. She didn’t want to burden anyone else with these things because everyone had their own stuff to deal with…

Slipping back into her room, Jemma pulled out the file once more. She didn’t open it yet, James’ words about what people thought about him still on replay over and over in her head. The horrible thing about it was that it was true. Any person that went through the things that he did for that long of a period and did things that gave any other person nightmares couldn’t be completely whole. But most of the people here had gone through instants that broke them the same way that James did: May and Bahrain, Coulson and TAHITI, Daisy and Terragenesis, Hunter and Creel, Bobbi and Ward, Fitz and her at the bottom of the ocean, her trapped on another world for months… None of them were whole and some of them hadn’t been before they’d become a team. 

With steady hands, she opened the file and picked up where she’d left off.

_May 31 st, 1945_

_Further testing of the ZS 397 have proven unsuccessful, amounting to twenty-three test subjects expiring within the first thirty-six hours and ten within forty-eight hours. Another examination of Subject 397 is required to determine how the serum interacts with the organism. It is uncertain if 397 has been ridded of its instabilities and flaws and until then, more test subjects will be required._

Jemma’s free hand clutched the sheets tightly, anger flooding through her once again. _Instabilities? Flaws?_ His free will and conscious and soul were what had made him who he was, and these scientists (it killed her to describe them as such) treated them like variables to be eliminated. She needed to separate herself from her emotions, but for once, that analytical part of her was being overwhelmed…

Thirty-three test subjects had been killed after being given that same serum that James had been. _Thirty-three._  It seemed that Hydra had struggled to replicate the results that had essentially created the Winter Soldier. Given the ingredients of the ZS 397 serum, it was a miracle that he hadn't died like all the others. The thought to ask James himself was squashed down vehemently, as well as asking Steve. Those two had been through enough and were finally starting to get a semblance of normalcy, or would be normal for two super soldiers, and didn't need her trudging up those memories.

The anger she’d tried to push away wouldn’t leave so she returned the folder to the drawer of her bedside table. Jemma quickly stripped off her work clothes and pulled on black yoga pants, black sports bra, and dark blue athletic tank top. She tied her hair back and slipped on her trainers before making her way to the gym.

Normally, a run on the treadmill would release all her pent-up frustration. But frustration wasn’t the emotion tightening her hands into fists and causing her jaw to clench. It was anger. Anger at all of the horrible things done to him in the name of science and power and, God forbid, curiosity. Anger for the dead expression James wore to hide what must’ve been decades and decades of pain and emotions. She needed to hit something…

It had been a while since she had to wrap her hands, so when she’d finally pulled out the wrapping, she grew even more frustrated as she struggled to wrap them. Step by step processes were effortless for her, but it seemed her emotions were clouding over everything else. “Damnit.” She muttered under her breath, tugging violently at the wrappings. “Work you bloody pieces of-”

“Need some help?”

Jemma jumped, nearly dropping the wrappings, and turned to find James nearly right behind her. Her grip on the wrappings tightened and she tried to take a calming breath, but it came out more as a sigh. “Sure.”

He took the wrapping and gently took one of her hands in his metal one to her surprise. His eyebrows drew together in concern. “You alright?”

Jemma looked away from that piercing gaze, instead watching the light glint off of the chromed metal. She could feel the slight vibrations of the inner workings on the inside of her forearm as he started wrapping her hand and smell the gunpowder that still clung to him. “Just need to let off some steam.”

He hummed as he finished wrapping one hand and moved onto the other.

Knowing him, Jemma thought as he finished her hand in silence, he already knew what was bothering her since every time she’d had an emotional breakdown in the last week it had something to do with that damn file of his.  She was relieved when he didn’t pry…not that she even expected he would. Other than the occasional vague comment, he’d hardly delved into his past.

He walked over to the nearest punching bag after he checked over both of her hands and tied his hair back, a few stubborn strands falling out, before standing behind the bag and bracing it with his body.

She stared at him a long moment. Between the time he’d gone to the shooting range and came here, he’d changed into a black tank top and loose black sweats. Flexing her hands, she made her way over to the punching bag. “You don’t need to stay.”

“But I’m going to.”

She huffed out a breath and began one of the simple combos Daisy had taught her. “Why?”

“Blowing off steam when you’re angry, I’ve learned, can cause damage.” He motioned his head to her wrapped hands as she furiously punched the bag, “You don’t need to hurt yourself any further.”

“I’m normally” Left. “Not so” Left. “Clumsy” Right. She paused when she caught his expression. “I’m not kidding. I may not be the Cavalry or Quake or Captain America, but I know how to handle myself in the lab.”

His lips twitched. “I’m sure you do.”

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed in silence before she added, “I normally don’t punch people either.”

The smile that curled his lips brought some light to his eyes. “Really? Got a good arm on ya.”

Jemma couldn’t help but blush, the anger seemed to bleed out of her body only to be replaced with fatigue. She spared a glance at the clock. They’d been there for nearly half an hour.

James noticed the change in her almost immediately because that smile widened slightly before he walked over to the cooler and grabbed a water bottle to hand it over. He watched her drink nearly half of it in one go. “Feelin’ better?”

She brushed a strand of damp hair from her flushed face and returned the smile. “Much. Thank you James.” She went to take off the wrappings when he once again took her hands in his and she hoped he couldn’t feel the pulse in her wrists jump. “I can take these off myself.”

He didn’t pause in his movements or look up from her hands, but she could hear the smirk in his voice. “You don’t like asking for help do you?”

“I can hardly hurt myself taking _these_ off.”

“Didn’t you burn yourself making _tea_?” He threw the used wrappings in the garbage bin without looking, warm fingers brushing over the fading burns. The smirk he had turned teasing.

“That wasn’t my fault.” Jemma’s face flushed anew. “ _You_ were the one who snuck up on me.”

James folded his arms across his chest. “ _You_ need to pay more attention to your surroundings.”

It took too much self-control to ignore the muscles of his right rippling in time with the gleaming metal of his left. She was pretty sure he noticed if the gleam in his eyes was anything to go by. Her face had to be bright red by now…damn. “In the kitchen at four in the morning?”

James’ retort was cut off by Daisy’s voice.

“Jemma, you in here?”

Jemma tore her eyes away from his, that piercing gaze had nearly had her pinned. She cleared her throat and tried to control the blush staining her cheeks, _very_ conscious of James standing behind her and the warmth he radiated. “Yeah, I’m in here.”

The door slid open and there was immediately a wide smile on her friend’s face as her eyes flicked between her and James. Jemma inwardly groaned, knowing she would most likely be interrogated before Daisy left with Joey and Lincoln. “Hey Barnes.”

He nodded his head, the smile not diminishing. “Johnson.”

She returned her attention to Jemma. “Fitz and Mack are going to start fixing your door now. It shouldn’t take more than two hours, but I was told to tell that it would be better if you weren’t in your room during this time so if there’s anything you want to grab before they start, you should do that now.”

“They can start if they want. I’m taking a break.”

Daisy once again looked behind Jemma. “I can see that…well I’ll leave you two then.”

Jemma’s face warmed again and she could’ve sworn she heard James chuckle quietly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you guys for your patience and support. I will seriously try to update sooner than the last. Thanks for reading. Until next time :)


	10. Distracted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was having a little trouble getting this out and then I went and saw Civil War. Safe to say I was a little (a lot) emotional. So just a warning for about the next update or so for the angst that is to come. Enjoy!

Jemma, last minute, had decided to grab a science journal from the overflowing stack in her bookshelf to pass the time. She’d really tried to read…really she had. Her room was off limits, the labs would drag her back into ZS 397, and pretty much every area of the base was full of constant conversation that distracted her from reading. She’d fought the urge to throw said journal at Hunter on multiple occasions. She wasn’t sure how she ended up back in the gym watching James and Steve spar, but she wasn’t complaining. Unsuccessfully, she’d tried to read, at least for the first few minutes, but watching the two of them was…mesmerizing in a way.

The Super Soldier Serum and ZS 397 had certainly done their jobs. Like the first time she’d watched them, she couldn’t believe men their size could move so fluidly. She watched James do a sideways flip into a strike that Steve rolled away from in the same instant. They circled each for a few seconds, seemingly stalking each other, before they sprang into action once more. The light flashed off of metal as James swung his left hand.

What followed was a blur of blocks and punches and dodges that nearly made Jemma dizzy when she tried to track any movement made. In the next instant, James swiped Steve out at the ankles. Steve managed to roll away before he was pinned, spinning back onto his feet only to dodge another fist to his face.

This continued for another thirty minutes and by then, Jemma had returned to as least attempting to read the science journal. She was on page three when a familiar shadow fell over her. She looked up to meet James’ cobalt eyes. “Yes?”

“Just wondering what you're readin’…”

“A science journal on the Einstein-Rosen Bridge by Doctor Foster.” She smiled at the look of total confusion that pulled his eyebrows together. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “An Einstein-Rosen Bridge is basically a wormhole, a bridge between other worlds. An example would be the Bifrost that Asgardians such as Thor and Sif use to come to Earth. Rumor has it that Dr. Foster herself has travelled to Asgard, which would be so amazing because-”

“Jemma, take a breath.”

Coming back into focus, she now had two pairs of blue eyes looking at her in amusement. She, of course, blushed bright red under the attention. She cleared her throat, “Sorry. I get a little excited…”

Steve smiled. “You’re fine. Jane would appreciate someone taking an interest in her papers considering Tony and Bruce are probably the only other people I know who do.”

Jemma’s response was cut off when Daisy entered to room once more, appearing somewhat frazzled. All three people turned to watch her hurry in. Daisy pointed at Steve. “You speak French?”

“ _Oui_. Is everything alright?”

“The Paris police are planning to send in soldiers in an attempt to extract the two Inhumans and we need to leave earlier than planned…We also need a translator…we won’t exactly have the time to have a machine translate while we extract them. I mean, you don’t have to-”

“No it’s all good. Anything I can do to help.” Steve looked at James, “You okay staying here?”

“You don’t need to mother hen me Stevie…I got plenty to keep me occupied.”

Jemma almost missed the way he looked at _her_ when he said that and cursed the blood that flooded to her face. She returned her focus to the journal, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes on her.

“Well then, we’re leaving in ten. We should be back in thirty-six hours max.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thank you so much.” Then as quickly as Daisy had entered, she’d left.

There was a pause, followed by the sound of Steve clapping James on the shoulder. “Don’t have too much fun alright?”

James snorted before replying dryly. “I’ll try to contain myself.”

“See you Jemma!”

Jemma looked up and waved back to Steve as he left the gym, which she then realized left her alone with James once again. Her blush deepened as she turned her attention to the journal, which lasted all of ten seconds before a shadow loomed over her. She gave up, shutting the journal with a sigh. “I need to go back to my room. The door should be done.”

James leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest once more, flashing her a small grin. “Sure you don't wanna stay?”

“I'm just going to be reading this journal.”

He shrugged. “So? You're good company.”

Jemma was at a loss for words. She knew that since she’d come back from the other world (since Will…) she hadn’t been as outgoing as she used to be, hadn’t been as talkative. “Me… good company?”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” He pushed himself off the wall and came to sit next to her, his eyes almost grey instead of their usual cobalt blue. “You have a very…calming presence.”

She’d been called intuitive and intelligent and even rational and had probably been more calming before her trip to the other world, but had found that since she’d been back she’d been more quiet and solitary (months alone with only one other person on an unfamiliar world with an evil Inhuman trying to kill them both would do that). She met his gaze, raising an eyebrow. “Calming how?”

He shrugged, seemingly staring at nothing for a moment before flexing his metal hand and Jemma watched the plating shift with the movement. “There’s so much in my head. Voices overlapping screams, memories bleeding into missions…and you come in with Jane Austen and the stories of the stars. Those things…” He trailed off, his brow furrowed.

She set the journal and placed a hand lightly on the metal, smiling at his somewhat stunned expression. “Bring normalcy?” 

“A sense of it anyways. Nothing will ever be normal for me again.” He looked away.

She frowned at the self-depreciating tone and tugged on his metal hand, cool against her skin. Jemma couldn’t allow him to retreat into his head, nothing good would come of it. She tugged his hand again and he finally brought his gaze back to her. As always, he seemed to look straight through her and she swallowed before speaking. “You want to go get something to eat?”

He blinked a few times and Jemma feared he’d say no. Instead a small smile curled his lips and Jemma tried to ignore the fact that it didn’t entirely reach his eyes as he replied. “Sure. Just lemme get a shower.”

She nodded and went to leave, only to turn back grab the discarded journal when she caught a glimpse of sweat-slicked skin as James pulled the tank top over his head. She was momentarily distracted, not only by the muscled breadth of his bare back and shoulders, but also the extensive scarring from where chromed metal met flesh. It spider webbed out, pale white and angry red against the light olive tone of his skin and Jemma wondered (briefly) how much damage it must’ve caused to leave those types of scars with the ZS 397 running through his veins. Her view (and thoughts) were cut off as the locker room door shut behind him and Jemma forced herself to pick up what she’d turned back for before making her way to the kitchen, her face bright red.

She was intercepted by Coulson of all people and her blush deepened when his eyebrows raised. Jemma clutched the journal tightly and swallowed once more.

“Is everything alright Jemma?”  

“Everything's fine.” She didn't bother with making her smile believable as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. There was no doubt he could see through anything she’d put up.

“What’re you reading?”

“Jane Foster’s paper on the Einstein-Rosen Bridge.”

Coulson smiled. “I would've thought that you'd read that already.”

“Oh I have. Just thought a change of subject would be nice.”

“How's your other reading going?”

Flashes of the photos and the nightmares and the emotionally detached notes came to the forefront of her mind, along with the feeling of being unable to breath. She frowned, clenching the journal tightly in her hands until her knuckles turned white, the anger that she'd tried to work off coming back. “It's…been difficult.”

Coulson appeared concerned. “Are you alright?”

Jemma let out a breath, trying to release the anger before she saw James again. She gave him a tight smile. “Yeah…I just needed a break. It’s just too much-”

“Hey,” Coulson placed a hand on her shoulder. “Take your time.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

“Okay…have a good day Simmons.”

Jemma smiled. “You too, Sir.” She waited until Coulson turned the corner before she allowed the smile to drop. _Memories bleeding into missions… Nothing will ever be normal for me again…_ She let out a long breath before continued on her intended course.

She was just about to turn the corner herself when she felt a light touch on her arm. She looked over her shoulder to see a freshly showered James behind her. The anger seemed to bleed out of her as she breathed in his scent of shampoo and something that was utterly _James_ and she found that smile returning easier than before. “Hey.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “You alright?”

She would need to figure out how to make her emotions more difficult to read or this constant questioning who make her resolve crack. “I’m fine James…really.”

He shrugged, not really believing her, but let the subject go.

With Daisy and the other Inhumans gone, the base was oddly quiet and when they got to the kitchen, they were the only ones there. Jemma pulled out a leftover pasta dish from the night before from the fridge and set it in the microwave before shutting to door and clicking the reheat button. She was conscious of James’ eyes on her as she propped her hip against the counter, waiting for the foot to heat up. She turned to look at him. “What?”

He smiled to himself. “Nothing,” He walked over to the fridge and opened the door, peering at the contents. “You wanna a beer?”

The microwave beeped. “Sure.”

Jemma pulled out to plates and forks, scooping one serving of pasta on her plate and two on his before setting them down at one of the tables. James twisted the cap off and handed her the bottle. She smiled. “Thanks.”

They ate and drank in silence, and Jemma declined his offer to help her with the dishes. She wished him a good night and returned to her quarters and shut the newly fixed door. Jemma opened the bedside table drawer and stared at the file, debating if she should even touch it. She knew she needed to read the entirety of it eventually, but decided to give her emotions and imagination a break before pulling out her science journal.

She finished it and was halfway through her second when she spared a glance at the clock. It was nearly two in the morning and Jemma already knew she would once again be having another long night. Slipping into warmer clothes, she prepped a thermos of tea and made her to the roof access door. She froze when she went to slid her ID card and saw the mangled controls that looked as though they’d been ripped out of the wall. Setting down her thermos, she hesitantly opened the door.

James was sitting on the ledge with his back to her and didn’t react when the door shut behind her. He was still wearing the tight black shirt and grey sweats he’d changed into earlier.

Even without the destroyed controls, Jemma could tell that something was very wrong. She recognized that eerie stillness almost immediately and Jemma stopped a good distance away, not wanting to startle him. “James?”

He remained still and if it weren’t for the fact she could see his breath in the cold air, she probably would’ve thought he wasn’t breathing at all. Jemma took a few more steps, still keeping a distance between them. “James?”

His lack of response was worrisome and ignoring her better sense, she came to stand off to his right side. Moonlight reflected off metal and for a split second, Jemma thought it was his arm, but then she realized the metal wasn’t the chromed plating of his left hand, but rather a gun held loosely in his right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm sorry...Please don't hate me for this cliffhanger! I promise I'm working as fast as I can on the next chapter. Until next time...


	11. Rooftop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another update! Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> WARNING: Mentions of suicidal thoughts.

“James, give me the gun.”

He was silent, but slowly turned his head. The deadness…the emptiness that usually accompanied this stillness wasn’t present. Instead, icy blue eyes overflowing with agony and guilt met hers and he replied in Russian. 

The pain was almost physical it was so raw and Jemma held out a shaking hand, trying not to cry. That wouldn’t help anything. “James please…just give me the gun.” 

He stared her hand and for a moment, Jemma feared he would tell her no. James let out a shaky breath, closed his eyes, and handed her the gun. He watched her set it on the ground before kicking out of both their reaches. “I wasn’t going to do anything.” 

Jemma noted with sadness that his voice was hoarse and she didn’t need to ask why. She had screamed herself awake too many times not to recognize it. She sat down next to him. “I know, but it eases my mind.” 

He stares down at his hands, both pale in the silvery light of the moon. He clenches and unclenches his fists, the metal creaking in protest and his knuckles bone white. He says nothing at first, just watches the plating shift. “Have you ever killed anyone?” 

The question caught her off-guard. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Yes.”

James seemed to consider her response before he stared out into the dark forest surrounding the base. Cool wind ruffled his hair and he wet his lips, resting his forearms on his knees. “I remember all of them.”

She froze, not really knowing how to respond. She knew that the Winter Soldier was suspected of nearly two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years. She also knew that with other missions, casualties were inevitable. Nearly seventy years…the body count was high. Her own hand curled into a fist, anger like fire burning in her lungs. She wanted to scream, to cry, to smash something…anything to get rid of the ache in her chest. The cruelty inflicted on the broken man before her was unjustifiable.

He didn’t look at her. “Steve tells me that what I did for them all those years wasn’t my fault…that I had no choice. But I still did it, nothing will change that.” He choked out a hollow laugh. “The reason we came here wasn’t because of some botched mission…the world wants me dead and honestly I don’t blame them. For a while…I thought I’d do the world a favor and end it myself.” 

Tears were burning her eyes. “James…”

“What they did to me…all the triggers and protocols…they’re still there. I know they are. All it takes is someone to come along with the right words and I’ll lose what control I do have over myself. I’ll become _Soldat_ again and more innocent people will die.”

Jemma laid a hand over his, now noticing the crusted blood on his knuckles and gently twined her fingers with his before laying her head against his shoulder. There was nothing she could say…no argument to make. Hydra was on its last leg and regaining control of their Asset could possibly turn the tides. It would’ve been naïve to think otherwise. She could feel his eyes on her and looked up to meet James’ analyzing gaze, hoping that the fact that it was nighttime would hide her blush. “What?” 

He stared down at their intertwined hands, “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” 

“Because you’ve done nothing to warrant it.” 

He pulled away from her, eyes bright with anger as he growled. “I’ve done _everything_ to warrant it! I’ve killed men, women, and children…” His voice broke and he turned away from her. “I could kill you right now before you even made a sound.” 

Jemma swallowed and got to her feet, shivering as a gust of wind cut through her clothing. Tendrils of hair tickled her cheek. “If you’re trying to scare me you’ll have to try a little harder.”

Suddenly he was in front of her, hands wrapped tightly around her shoulders. His jaw was clenched, his entire body rigid as he growled something in Russian. His eyes, she noted, were showing the beginnings of the emptiness of the Soldier.

She didn’t flinch, even though she knew she would definitely have bruises come morning. He was trying to push her away…trying to get her to see him as the assassin instead of the man she’d come to see beneath. She met his burning gaze with one of her own and lifted one hand as high as she was able, gently resting it on his chest. “Come back, James.”

His fingers uncurled from her arms and he stepped back, running his flesh hand down his face. James walked past her and when Jemma turned around he was hunched over the edge, both hands gripping the stone with enough force to crack it. 

Ignoring her throbbing shoulders, she watched as his entire body shuddered. Walking over, Jemma placed a hand between his shoulder blades. The muscle beneath her palm went rigid and a choked sound left his throat. “James?” 

The stone crumbled under his metal hand and he let out another broken sound. He was murmuring in one of the many languages he knew, shaking his head as though he wanted to dislodge whatever was running through his mind. 

There was little warning as James stood up and Jemma stumbled back from the force, nearly falling. She managed to regain her balance right as James clutched his head and sank to the ground, his back against the ledge, his elbows resting on his knees. 

Jemma cautiously made her way back to him and slid to the ground as well, her back against the cold stone. He didn’t react to her presence at first, still murmuring in that same foreign tongue. Ignoring the pinch of fear in her stomach, she reached up and gently ran her fingers through the dark hair that wasn't tangled in his hands. 

A couple of minutes passed before he lowered his hands and lifted his head to stare at her. Jemma, for a moment, saw someone much younger than the nearly century old man in front of her. She moved her hand until it rested on his forearm. “Are you back with me?” 

He nodded and got to his feet, his back to her. 

Jemma stood up as well and went to go to his side, but his voice froze her. 

“Can I be alone?” His voice was devoid of warmth.

“James-”

“Please.” He didn’t turn to look at her. 

Jemma nodded and realizing that he could see her responded with an “Okay.” Walking back to the door, she picked up the gun she’d kicked away earlier as well as the thermos before returning inside. She slipped back into her chambers and changed back into her pajamas, sitting on the edge of the bed with the gun in her hands. 

Jemma stared at the weapon, trying to process the last ten minutes. She’d been getting used to having James. She enjoyed hearing the Brooklyn drawl and seeing the mischievous smirks, almost forgetting that the Soldier was also in his head…that there was a war raging in James’ mind that he seemed to fight constantly. 

She tried not to be hurt by his dismissal of her. She knew he feared he would hurt her and it was that fear of causing damage that had brought him to the roof in the first place. Jemma really didn’t think James would’ve used the gun on himself, though, but the thought of him in the current mindset with a weapon was enough cause for her to be worried.

 Removing the magazine and pulling the slid back, she watched as a single cartridge dropped into the drawer. Jemma, with trembling hands, returned the cartridge into the magazine and placed both it and the gun in the drawer on top of the file and shut it before the seemingly constant anger came back. Sliding under the sheets, she shut off the light and tried to forget the pain in his eyes. _I remember all of them…_ Jemma shook her head and pulled the sheets tighter around her, conscious of the silent tears dripping onto the pillow. _Stop it Jemma!_ She somehow willed her brain off the subject, if only long enough for her to fall asleep. 

Jemma woke in a cold sweat, her face wet with tears and a scream caught in her throat. With the lingering impressions of broken Russian; grey-flecked eyes full of agony, and a gunshot…Jemma was glad she hadn’t remembered this particular nightmare.

A glance at the alarm clock told her she’d only slept two hours. She went to run a hand through her damp hair when a throbbing pain in her arms was brought to her attention. Lifting up the sleeves revealed identical rings of deep purple and blue bruises in the shape of hands around her biceps, the ones on the right significantly darker than the ones on the left (probably deep tissue then). _Looks like long sleeves for a while…_

With a grimace, she slipped out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. The shower took a little longer than usual, given that raising her arms above her head caused her discomfort. She dried herself off and got dressed quickly, relieved to finally put her arms down. After taking three ibuprofen, she made her way to the kitchen and was met with the surprising sight of James nursing a mug of black coffee. 

His eyes were once again guarded, his expression stoic. The shadows under his eyes betrayed his expression, showing her that he hadn’t gotten any sleep. That gaze, though unreadable, still seemed to pull back any wall she put up. 

“Good morning James.” 

He took a sip and nodded, eyes skirting away from her. “Morning.” 

It seemed they were back to square one…and Jemma was running to too little energy to even be upset by it. She’d seen him break down where she’d only heard the incidents through gossip and the fading bruises and contusions that Steve had sported before. She guessed she should be lucky that all she’d gotten were bruises when he was capable of much more violence in the past…

Jemma reluctantly turned away and busied herself by pulling out the necessary ingredients for breakfast. Setting the cast iron skillet on the slowly heating burner, she filled a kettle with water and set it on another burner. While she did this, another person entered the kitchen and she was somewhat surprised to see that it was Hunter. 

She watch out of the corner of her eye. James and Hunter didn’t really talk much. If the flesh hand tightening around the mug was any indication, the ex-mercenary seemed to be setting James on edge...more so than usual. Hunter sensed this and instead turned his attention to Jemma. 

With a wide smile he came over, bumping his shoulder against. “Morning Jemma.” 

The ibuprofen (sadly) hadn’t dampened the pain in her right arm and she couldn’t help but flinch when the pressure was applied. Jemma now felt two pairs of eyes on her and was quick to dissuade Hunter’s concern. “You’re fine Hunter…I just slept on it wrong is all.”

Hunter studied her with a raised eyebrow, clearly seeing through the lie. He didn’t point it out though, seeming to realize that she wouldn’t divulge the truth to him even if he asked her again. 

The kettle whistling distracted her for a moment before she moved it to one of the inactive burners. She pulled out two mugs and put Breakfast tea bags in them before filling them with water. Putting two spoons in as well, she handed one to Hunter, who eyebrows raised at the clear indication to leave her alone. 

He grinned. “Alright then…thanks for the tea, love.” 

She shoved him away playfully, but it wasn’t until he left that she dropped the expression with a sigh. Jemma turned and expected to find James, but he was gone, leaving behind the shattered and bloody remains of the mug. She closed her eyes. _Damnit…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone catch the lines from Civil War? I apologize again for the angst, but it wouldn't be the Winter Soldier without it. Thank you guys for the wait. Until next time...


	12. Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another update yay!! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> WARNING: Panic attack occurs in this chapter.

She cleaned up the destroyed mug and wiped down the table. She ate her breakfast quickly and cleared the dishes.

Jemma already knew going to look for James would be fruitless so she decided to return to the lab and immerse herself in ZS 397 and get a more in depth chemical break down of the formula.

  
She wasn’t aware of the amount of time that had passed until a hand tapped her shoulder. She flinched, about to snap at the person for interrupting her until she met Daisy’s smiling face.

Jemma wrapped her arms around her, her grip tightened involuntarily as the muscles in her right shoulder protested.

  
Daisy pulled back, noticing the movement, her face now a mask of concern. “Are you alright?”

  
Jemma took a shaky breath and she knew she would not be able to lie to Daisy, the only one who knew about her and James. She found tears burning her eyes, her voice cracking. “No…no I’m not.”

  
Daisy looked around the lab. “Are you almost done here?”

  
Jemma nodded. “I…I can be done for now.”

  
Daisy squeezed her shoulder. “Let me help you clean up and then we can go to you room alright?”

  
The lab was cleaned in a few short minutes and Jemma let herself be guided back to her quarters. Daisy sat her on the edge of the bed, making sure the door was firmly shut before sitting next to her. They both sat in silence before Daisy hesitantly broke it. “Jemma…what happened?”

  
“After you guys left…everything was fine. James and I had dinner and we said goodnight. I was having trouble…” She swallowed, trying to clear the lump in her throat. “I was having trouble sleeping and I thought some stargazing might clear my head. James was there too…”

  
“Did he hurt you Jemma?”

  
“He’d had a nightmare and I pushed him-”

  
“Jemma…did he hurt you?”

  
In response to Daisy’s question, she unbuttoned her shirt and grimaced as she shrugged it off. Jemma could feel a hand hovering over the marked skin. “After that he…he just collapsed…stopped speaking English.” Her cheeks were wet with tears as she recalled his…panic attack. “I didn’t want to leave him alone, but…but he told me to leave.”

  
“Jemma…”

  
“He knows about these...we crossed paths in the kitchen. He spoke all of one word to me and refused to look at me and that was before Hunter accidentally hit the bruises. By the time Hunter had left the kitchen…James was gone too.”

  
“Jemma…we need to tell-”

  
“No!” She looked away from Daisy’s startled expression, then repeated it in a much softer tone. “No…James wasn’t- he was scared Daisy. He was trying to push me away so he wouldn’t hurt me.” Jemma’s hands were shaking, her breath shortening…

  
“Hey, hey. Jemma look at me.” Dark brown eyes met hers in a steady gaze. “I was just saying we should talk to Steve. Ask him where James usually retreats to. If what you said was true…he really shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  
“You’re not…upset with him?”

  
“I doubt anyone here can judge him how he reacts to his nightmares…or panic attacks.” Daisy’s expressions sobers, remembering the time shortly after her Terragenesis and Trip’s death. “Me least of all.”

  
“Daisy…” Jemma laid a hand on her shoulder, remembering the time as well.

  
“It’s fine Jemma. I’ve…come to terms with it.” She smiles, the sadness in her dark eyes lingering as she helps Jemma to her feet before helping her back into the shirt and buttoning it. “Let’s go talk to Rogers…the debriefing should be over soon.”

  
Jemma, last minute, walked over to the bedside table and pulled out the gun. She ignored the expression dawning on Daisy’s face as she loaded the magazine and pulled the slid back before switching on the safety and sliding in the waistband of her trousers. Pulling the tail of her shirt over it, she turned back to Daisy. “How did the extraction go…if I may ask?” It was a deliberate subject change, but it helped clear her mind and calm her pulse.

  
Daisy allowed the change, seeming to swallow back any questions about the gun. “Successful. Both are being checked by Bobbi…you can visit them after this if you would like.”

  
“Of course.”

  
Finding Steve turned out to be easy as they turned to the corner by Coulson’s office and found him exiting the room. Meeting their gazes, he seemed to figure out what they were there for when Steve noticed Jemma’s bloodshot eyes. He guided them to an empty room before shutting the door, tilting his head (probably to listen for eavesdroppers). “What happened?”

  
Jemma took a deep breath to steel herself and she felt Daisy’s comforting presence by her side. “Last night I couldn’t sleep…so I went to go to the roof. Stargazing has always…calmed me.” She swallowed, conscious of the cool metal at the small of her back. “James was there as well. He…” Jemma reached back and pulled out the gun, holding it out to Steve. “He had this on him.”

  
Steve’s jaw clenches and his face pales as he takes the weapon from her.

  
“He told me he wasn’t going to do anything.” She was quick to assure him. “He gave it to me when I asked. I think…” Jemma paused. “I believe he had a nightmare. He wouldn’t talk about, but from something he said I figured it out.” She debated telling Steve, but noticed by the absolutely wrecked look in Steve’s eyes that he already knew. “He asked me why I wasn’t scared of him and I said…I said that I hadn’t seen anything to warrant it. It was…” She hugged herself, ignoring the throbbing in her arms. “It was clearly the wrong thing to say and he grabbed me-”

  
“Jemma…” Steve took a step towards her.

  
“No.” She said, stopping him in his tracks. “Just let me finish.”

  
Steve reluctantly nodded.

  
“James he uh…he let me go and walked over to the ledge.” Jemma wondered, briefly, if the crumbled stone was still there. “He just collapsed…stopped speaking English. I stayed with him until he…came back. He told me to leave so I did.” She forced back the tears. “He’s been avoiding me and I was wondering if you had any idea where he would go.”

  
Steve ran a hand through his hair. “He might be in his room…if he wants to be alone, that’s where he would most likely go. Let me know if he isn’t.”

  
Jemma nodded. “Thank you Steve.”

  
“No,” Steve said. “Thank you Jemma…for staying with him.”

  
Before the tears could make an appearance, she turned and left the room, feeling Daisy follow suit. Jemma felt a hand wrap lightly around her wrist and she stopped to face Daisy. “What?”

  
“Why didn’t you tell me?”

  
“I didn't want you to worry.”

  
Daisy took both hands and lightly squeezed. “I'll always worry about you, Jemma and you don't have to keep anything from me. You know that right?”

  
Jemma nodded and they both walked to James’ quarters and she noted that it was the farthest away from anyone (except Steve). She watched Daisy place her hand on the door and close her eyes in concentration.

  
Daisy met her confused expression with a small smile. “He’s not in there…I can’t sense any vibrations coming from him or his arm. Do you want to stay or go get Steve?”

  
“I’ll stay…is there a chance you can get it open?”

  
Daisy seemed to be gauging the seriousness of the question. “Uh…are you sure? I don’t think surprising him is going to help matters.”

  
Jemma relented, realizing how stupid the question was. “Okay…I’ll sit out here then.” There was only one way into the rooms, but she had no illusions that if James really wanted to avoid her, he would find creative ways to do it.

  
“Do you want me to stay with you?”

  
“No,” Jemma waved off the worry. “It’s fine.”

  
“You sure?” Daisy rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  
“Yeah.”

  
“Okay then. Just come find me when you’re done alright?”

  
“I will.” Jemma returned the smile, waiting until Daisy turned the corner before it fell from her face and she slowly slid to the floor. She winced as she rested her forearms on her knees and stared at the opposite wall.

  
Would he even come back here? For all she knew, James could be in some other area completely. The base wasn’t exactly and she wondered if she could be sitting there all night, but she had to believe that Steve knew his friend well enough to know where he would go.

  
It was five minutes later that a familiar shadow fell over her and Jemma looked up to meet tired pale blue eyes and pursed lips.

  
“Why are you here Jemma?”

  
“I want to talk about last night.”

  
“Why do you always want to talk about it?” He punched the code to open the door and spoke at a level she was sure wasn’t intended for her ears. “Talking only brings pain.”

  
“Damnit James…” She tried to pull herself to her feet, the throbbing ache in her arms making it more difficult. “Can we just-” A warm hand enters her vision and she takes it. “Thanks.”

  
He drops her hand as though were acid and turns away, his own clenched into a fist. “I hurt you…why would you voluntarily be around me?”

  
“Because I want to help.”

  
He turned around before she realized she’d said something wrong, his eyes stormy with anger as he growled. “I'm not a fucking charity case!”

  
“I never said you were.” Jemma said calmly as she watched him take a couple of deep breaths, not wanting to push it at the moment. “Am I allowed to come in or are you going to leave me in the hallway?”

  
He stared at her intently for a moment and nodded.

  
“Yes I can come in or yes you're leaving me in the hallway?”

  
“You can come in.”

  
God, it's like pulling teeth… She smiled as kept the door open. “Thanks.”

  
He nodded.

  
She looked around the room. Like all the others on base, it consisted of the usual bed, bedside table, dresser, shelves, and attached bathroom. Jemma, conscious of his eyes on her back, walked over to the shelves and ran her hands along the spines of the many books. Titles in Cyrillic, German, French, and, of course, English stared back at her.

  
“I’m sorry.”

  
Her hand froze momentarily. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  
“Yes I do. What I did…” He trailed off.

  
She turned at the sound of his metal hand curling into a fist, walking over to place a hand on his forearm. He took a step back. “James-”

  
“Let me see your arms.”

  
The words she’d planned to say were now stuck in her throat. “I don’t-”

  
“Please Jemma.”

  
Her mouth snapped shut. For a moment, it was like being on the roof again and Jemma was once again trapped in that intense gaze that she couldn’t tear herself away from. With shaking hands, she slowly unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged it off, leaving her in a thin white tank top.

  
A choked sound left James’ throat, but he stepped forward with right hand outstretched. His fingers had hardly brushed the marked skin before his hand began to tremble.

  
Jemma could only watch as he seemed to crumble into himself, staggering back. He sank onto the end of the bed, hands once again clutching his temples as his shoulders shook. Ignoring the part of her that told her to leave, she stood in front of him and reached out a hand. Like she did the night before on the roof, she ran her fingers through his hair.

  
It took several minutes before James registered the touch and he lifted his head and dropped his hands. His eyes were worryingly cold for a moment, the flecks of grey within the blue like shards of metal amid shattered ice. He blinked and his eyes refocused. “You’re still here?”

  
Her hands settled on his shoulders and gently squeezed. Jemma was relieved to feel some of the tension leave them and she smiled. “Of course.”

  
His gaze wasn’t on her, instead it lingered on the bruises. “Well…you shouldn’t be.”

  
There was no heat to the words nor the coldness from before…now he just sounded tired.

  
Before she could tell herself to back away, she reached out and held his face in her hands, tilting it up to meet her eyes. The stubble along his jaw scratched against her skin and she heard his small intake of breath. “The bruises will heal.”

  
He went to draw away.

  
She tightened her hold slightly, even knowing he could pull away no matter what. “I won’t leave you James. Nothing you do will ever make me leave you.”

  
James said nothing at first, only staring at her with eyes that were a little warmer than before. Gently, he removed her hands from his face and stood up. He picked up her shirt and held it out to her, gaze watchful as she shrugged it back on and covered the bruises once more. It was clear he wanted her to go.

  
It wasn’t until she turned to leave that he spoke.

  
“Past actions of the Soldat will change your opinion of me Jemma. You have to know that.”

  
Jemma turned. “You are not the Soldier anymore.”

  
“His victims’ blood is on my hands and it was my finger that pulled the trigger. Regardless of what I do now, Jemma…that is something you need to learn.” He clenched his hands into fists. “The Soldier is as much a part of me now as Bucky Barnes is and there is nothing you can say that will ever change that.”

  
She sighed. Jemma didn’t want to argue with him. It would only set the progress she’d made with him back, so she only nodded and left his quarters. Hopefully meeting the new Inhumans would improve her now somber mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor James and Jemma :( Until next time...


	13. Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't apologize enough for such a long wait. I hit a major block in this story, but i am happy to say that I've found my inspiration again! So here it is, a long update for the long wait!

“Hey Jemma,” Daisy met her at the door of what was considered the rec center of the base, dark eyes roaming over her body. “You okay?”

“We had a difference of opinion.”

“I’m sorry Jemma.” Daisy placed a hand on her shoulder. “You here to meet them?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then.” Daisy turned, motioning to the table.

Jemma followed her hand, noticing the two girls sitting with Steve. The younger of the two was chatting excitedly with him, the older watching with a wistful smile. Both had dark hair and bright blue eyes. “They’re just kids.”

“The older of the two, Chloe, has the ability to control air currents and Isabelle is an empath…she can read the emotions of others. Both were put into foster care four years ago after their parents died. Their foster father didn’t make it through Terragenesis.”

“That’s horrible.”

“From what Chloe told Steve…it was probably for the best.”

Isabelle seeing Jemma, ran over and wrapped her arms around her knees.

“Hello Isabelle.” Jemma knelt down, the girl’s wide grin contagious. “What was that for?”

Her reply, in French, was impossible to discern.

“I’m sorry…I can’t speak French.” Jemma put a hand on her shoulder.

“She says that you’re sad and that a hug can make someone feel better.” Steve’s voice appeared to come out of nowhere, the translation bringing concern to his expression. “Are you okay Jemma? Did Bucky say something to upset you?”

“He just said what he thought was right…I disagreed. Don’t worry about me Steve.” She faced Isabelle, knowledgeable blue eyes staring up at her. She smiled at the girl. “Thank you Isabelle, I do feel a little better.”

Isabelle froze for a moment, though, her brows furrowing in concentration.

It seemed Steve was about to ask her something when James entered the room.

Jemma was surprised to see him so soon after their conversation, thinking that he would avoid this kind of gathering altogether. He was carrying the air of someone who didn’t to be bothered and Jemma expected to leave, but he didn’t. He only went to sit at an empty table. _What was he even doing here?_ Daisy went still beside her and Steve stood up from his crouch. Chloe took in their reactions, quickly making her way over to her younger sister.

Everyone in the room was shocked when Isabelle ignored her sister’s warning and made her way over to James. She stared at him for a long moment and him at her. She asked him something that had him stiffening momentarily, along with everyone else in the room, but he responded in the same language a few seconds later.

Steve listened, his eyes falling on Jemma once more.

She hardly noticed, though, instead concentrating on Isabelle and James. Jemma watched the girl motion to his left arm, most of the prosthetic covered by a long sleeve black shirt.  He wore that same shocked expression he had when Jemma held his face in her hands just minutes before and he actually rolled up the sleeve to the elbow, placing the arm on the table. Isabelle ran her fingers down the metal, watching the plates move and shift. To the surprise of him and others, she laughed. The smile that James gave her wasn’t just crooked lips, but full flashing teeth and eyes that brightened.

“Bucky had three younger sisters you know: Rebecca, Winnie, and Lizzie.” Steve came to stand by Jemma’s side. “Never could say no to any of them. Isabelle looks a little like Rebecca, the youngest.” He smiled, remembering. “I haven’t seen him smile like that since I found him.”

“It’s good to see him like this.” Jemma agreed, a smile of her own curling her lips. “He doesn’t seem so…guilty or burdened.”

“Coulson told me you’ve been reading his medical file.”

The comment threw her and Jemma wrapped her arms around herself, unbidden images came to her mind. “I have. Why?” She winced the defensive tone she took.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…” Steve sighed. “I wanted to know why you asked for it in the first place.”

“Coulson didn’t tell you?”

“He wouldn’t say. Although I figured it had something to with what I told Coulson to have you grab from the last Hydra facility. The numbers were the same and I had a theory…”

“The sample you had me grab appears to be the same one used on James in 1943.”

Steve was silent for a long moment. “The exact same one?”

“I can’t know that without comparing samples…and I don’t think he’ll want anyone coming near him with a medical instrument.” Jemma sighed, returning her gaze to James, who was now conversing steadily with Isabelle. “After the conversations I’ve had with him and the things I’ve read…I don’t want him to think of me as another scientist who wants to use him as another lab rat.”

“He’s never thought that about you Jemma.”

“I’m pretty sure asking for a blood sample would change his thoughts.”

“I know some of his missions as the Winter Soldier were released in the file dump.” Steve watched her expression carefully. “Did your thoughts about Bucky change when you read about some of the things he’d done?”

“The man he is now isn’t Hydra’s weapon anymore, regardless if he argues otherwise.”

“If you explain to him why you’re taking the blood sample then I don’t believe he’ll be upset.”

Jemma wasn’t sure she entirely believed that, but nodded anyways. “Have you come across any more of the ZS 397 in any of the other bases you’ve taken?”

His brow furrowed. “No. Why?”

“James is the only known survivor out of the thirty-four documented test subjects who received the ZS 397 and I know that there’re many more undocumented test subjects. If there are any more samples of the serum, they need to be removed from Hydra’s hands. No one else should die strapped to a table…”

Steve’s expression sobered. “I agree. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Thank you Steve. I appreciate that.”

Steve nodded and gave her a small smile when he gaze focused on something over her shoulder.

Jemma felt a hand tug on her shirt and she turned, expecting to find Isabelle. She was surprised, though, to find James’ pale gaze on her. She opened her mouth to ask what he was doing when she noticed that Isabelle had pulled him over to her, one small hand holding his metal hand. She looked down at Isabelle.

The girl must’ve sensed her confusion because she said something to Steve, who smiled warmly down at her before looking back up and looking at James. “I believe you two have some things to talk about.”

Jemma, blushing, turned to meet James’ eyes, who shot a half-hearted glare at Steve before he returned his gaze to her. She found herself unable to look away, her face reddening more as he _almost_ started to smile.

He opened his mouth to speak, his gaze not so subtly making its way around the room, before shutting it. The plates of his left arm shifted, _click_ ing as they slid into place. He hardly seemed to realize he was even doing it. Probably an unconscious thing…

With that thought, Jemma realized that they had an audience. Both Daisy and Steve were with the girls, Bobbi and Hunter had made themselves at home at one of the tables, and Fitz was fiddling with something next to them…Jemma had no illusions that every single of them was listening in. She went to leave the room, speaking at a level only he (and probably Steve) could hear, “ _Mhullach_.”

She took a detour, aware of when he broke off in the direction of the roof access. Jemma quickly made her way to her quarters and grabbed a jacket before returning to the kitchen and pouring a thermos of readied Chamomile tea from the kettle on the stove (Hunter’s doing). She was aware she was stalling as she absently twisted the lid on, but Jemma’s mind couldn’t get over the fact that Steve had worded what he’d said so deliberately that James would want to know what she had to say. And considering her question, she wouldn’t be able avoid it, especially with him staring at her with those piercing eyes…

Pulling away from her thoughts, Jemma shrugged on her jacket and walking upstairs. She couldn’t help but clutch the thermos tightly in one hand as she punched in the code on the newly repaired panel and shouldered the door open.

The bruises ached at the familiar scene of James sitting on the ledge, but this time he turned to look at her when the door opened. The expression on his face knotted up her stomach; he was reading her…

“Jemma?”

She tightened her hold on the thermos, an action which wasn’t missed by him. She would actually be surprised if _anything_ she did around him would be. Jemma made her way over to him and sat on his right side, holding out the tea. “You want some?”

“Jemma, what did you need to talk to me about?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Even if your hands weren’t shaking…I would know you’re lying.” He took the thermos from her trembling hands, eyebrows drawn together in concern as he set it aside. “Does this have something to do with what you and Steve were talking about?”

“Seriously James it’s-”

“Not nothing Jemma.” He stared out at the surrounding forest. “It was about me wasn’t it?”

Jemma didn’t bother trying to argue against him. She watched him as he rested his forearms on his knees, the metals plates of his arm shifting once more. Neither of them said anything for a long minute, the silence more of an answer than anything Jemma could say.

“You’re scared of what my reaction will be.”

Jemma stiffened. The tone of voice telling her that it was more a statement of fact than a question. She swallowed, wringing her hands, then sighed. “Steve shouldn’t have said anything.”

“He wouldn’t have said anything if he didn’t think that is was important.”

“It’s just…” She looked out at the forest and took a deep breath, “I don’t want to ask because I don’t want you to…” Jemma trailed off, her throat suddenly becoming dry. The silence was longer this time, nearly five minutes, but she was struggling to get the words out. The tension was becoming palpable and she could hear the metal plates shifting.

She stared down at her hands, not wanting to meet his gaze. She knows he’s looking at her…can feel the heat of it like a physical thing. Jemma also knew how quickly that heat could turn to ice. She didn’t want to see that coldness directed at her.

“You don’t want me to _what_?”

She flinched at the edge to his voice, the coolness that bordered on frustration and irritation. Jemma almost wished she hadn’t come to the roof as she turned to meet his eyes, which she was surprised to find weren’t as cold as she’d thought they’d be. His eyes didn’t match the voice at all.

“I don’t want you to look at me differently.”

His expression and voice softened. “Jemma…”

“And I know you will.”

James reached out, taking one hand in his. “It would take more than a question for me to look at you any differently. Just ask me.”

She watched his thumb run lightly over her knuckles. “Steve was asking me about the ZS 397 that I recovered from the base. He had a theory about the numbers and based on what I found…I believe that this was the same serum used on you in 1943, but I…don’t have evidence. The only way that I could prove this was if…”

His hand stopped moving. “You obtain a blood sample.”

“I…I was afraid that you would only see me as another scientist.” She went to pull away from his hand. “Steve said you wouldn’t be mad, but I didn’t-”

He tightened his grip on her hand. “I’m not mad Jemma.”

Jemma was honestly a little shocked, staring at him with wide eyes. “Y-you’re not?”

“The fact that you’re even asking and that you considered my feelings on the matter tell me that you won’t treat me like…the others did.” He stared at some far off point, the fingers of his left hand twitching. “I don’t have to go into a lab do I?”

“No…no…Just tell me where and when and that’s what I’ll do.”

He smiled at her then, his eyes suddenly filled with heat. “Then I’ll see in my room after dinner?”

Jemma blushed and shook her head at what was probably an intentional innuendo, inwardly relieved to see him at ease with her again. “Okay then…Now that we’ve figured that out. What did you want to talk to _me_ about?”

The warmth in his eyes dimmed slightly, his lips now pressed into a thin line as he let go of her hand and back out at the trees refusing to even glance at her.

Jemma refused to let him withdraw and scooted over until she could lean her head against his shoulder. She breathed in his scent of cologne, metal, and gunpowder. The warmth of his skin could be felt through both his shirt and her jacket. She looked up at him, “James…talk to me.”

“That girl Isabelle…she’s an Inhuman?”

“Yes she is…what did she say to you?”

“ _A weapon has no other purpose but to harm…_ ” His left hand clenched into a tight fist. “It was something I remember Zola saying...the first time he’d strapped me down. Early on, I just ignored anything he said…thought that he could never make me harm anyone I cared about.” He chuckled, the sound hollow. “Clearly I’d been wrong.” He stared down at his hands. “I’ve been out from under Hydra’s thumb for almost two years and I’d foolishly hoped that I would never harm another person I cared about…But after what I’ve done to Steve and now to you…”  

Jemma pressed closer to him and brushed aside the twinge of pain from the pressure the movement put on the bruises. He hardly talked about ‘before’ with anyone. She didn’t want to say anything for fear he would close up once more. And once he closed up, she would get nothing from him and they would be back to square one.

“Isabelle…she wanted to know why I felt so guilty. I didn’t know how to tell her, a young girl, about all of the horrible and bloody things I’d done so I didn’t respond. She then asked if it had anything to do with why you were sad and I couldn’t help but think back to that.” He looked at her then, eyes clouded with anger and grief. “All I am and ever will be is Hydra’s weapon…”

“Steve had been trying to convince me to ask you about the blood sample and I told him I was afraid that your view of me would be different… I’d read some of the mission reports that Daisy was able to pull up. And he brought that up, asking me if _my_ thoughts about you had changed when I’d read them. Do you know what I said?” She met his gaze with a hard look of her own. “I told him you are no longer Hydra’s weapon…and you never will be again.”

He sighed, having heard those words before, and looked as though he would speak.

“Don’t tell me I’m naïve or that what I say won’t change anything.” She held his eyes, refusing to let him look away. “A _weapon_ wouldn’t feel guilt or anger or sadness. A _weapon_ wouldn’t lose sleep over their victims. A _weapon_ wouldn’t smile or laugh or calm someone from a panic attack. But _you_ do James. You do.”

He looked at her, a smile playing on his lips. “You are a stubborn one aren’t you?”

Jemma was relieved that her somewhat angry tirade hadn’t pushed him away, smiling back up at him and leaning her head back against his shoulder. She was surprised when she felt his arm wrap around her, his hand resting on her shoulder. She smiled, closing her eyes and concentrated on the warmth his embrace brought her.

The moment abruptly ended with the sound of a door opening, followed by Daisy’s voice. “Hey you two, it’s time for dinner.”

James was the first to react, dropping his arm and picking the thermos in his other hand.

Her eyes snapped open and Jemma silently mourned the loss of his warmth as she got down from the ledge and meet the absolutely gleeful smile of her friend. She returned the expression, not even caring that a blush was quickly spreading across her face.

James gave her a heated look before walking ahead of them.

In the short seconds it took Jemma to recover, he was already down the stairs and out of sight. She huffed out a breath at Daisy’s amusement. “What?”

“I’m guessing the talk went good?”

Jemma’s blush deepened. “What do you think?”

“ _I_ think you _liiiike_ him.” She said in a singsong voice.

Jemma playfully shoved Daisy’s shoulder. “Let’s just go eat alright?”

Before they turned to corner into the kitchen, Daisy looked over and whispered. “We’re not done talking about this, you hear?”

Jemma just smiled and took her seat between Daisy and Fitz, trying to ignore the heat of gaze from across the table as she pushed her food around her plate. She managed a few bites, enough not to worry the others, as she mentally made a list of supplies she would need to grab from the lab…

She excused herself from dishes and, ignoring Daisy’s look, as she hurried towards the lab. For probably the first time in her life, she was apprehensive of doing this extremely simple procedure. Jemma was sure her nervousness had more to do with the patient than the procedure. She pulled out a medical bag from one of the cupboards and began gathering the necessary instruments.

First she grabbed a pair of latex gloves, tourniquet, and alcohol wipes before moving to the next drawer and grabbing two vacuum extraction tubes along with the corresponding needle. Grabbing a containment pouch for the blood and container for used instruments, Jemma locked up the lab and made her way slowly to his room, giving herself time to think.

He had seemed more than okay with her obtaining a blood sample, the only time he faltered being the thought of having to step into a lab. His choice of location had made sense though. It was a place he felt he would have the most control and had no doubt done a floor-to-ceiling sweep as well as stashing who knows how many weapons throughout…

She knocked on the door and it slid open, revealing a nervous James. She watched the blade twirl back and forth between the fingers of his flesh hand at a speed she could hardly follow before it abruptly stopped and he slipped it into his ankle sheath. “We don’t have to-”

He gave her a tight smile as he sat down and laid out his right arm on the desk, his hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist. “Ready when you are Doctor Simmons.”

She walked over the desk and set the bag down, pulling out the instruments and laying them out so he could see what she’d brought. Pulling on the gloves and, locating the vein, she tore open the alcohol wipe and disinfected the site. While waiting for the site to dry, she put down the used wipe and grabbed the tourniquet, noticing that James had already uncurled his fist. As she tied the tourniquet around his bicep, Jemma wondered just how many times he’d had to do this…Jemma shoved those thoughts away before it distracted her from what she was trying to do.

Taking the double sided needle, she screwed one end into the holder and readied one of the tubes before removing the cap. Using her index finger and thumb, she anchored the vein and stuck the needle in. She filled both tube in rapid succession, removing the tourniquet as the second tube was nearly filled.

She removed the needle, not bothering with applying pressure as she watched the injection sight heal. Placing the blood samples in the containment, she then placed all the used instruments in the container before removing the gloves as well and putting the lid on. She then placed both the container and the blood into the bag before turning to James.

His right arm was still laying on the desk.

“James I’m done.” She squeezed his hand, worried at his lack of response. “James?” She reached up to touch his face, jumping as metal encircled her wrist just as her fingers brushed his jaw.

His gaze flicked to her and a slight shudder went through his body as he lowered her wrist and let go. He squeezed her hand in reply and took a couple deep breaths before speaking, his voice tense. “Done?”

“Yeah I’m done.” She watched eyes wander to the bag. “Are you alright?”

He smiled, but it was brittle. “I’m fine.”

Jemma sighed. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“What makes you think I’m lying?”

“I can read people too.”

A single eyebrow raised at her response.

“James be serious. I just want to know if you’re okay.” She tried not to let her exasperation bleed into her voice. She knew that the other scientists and doctors hadn’t bothered to ask or even care if he felt any pain, but she’d hoped he’d be honest with her for doing it. “ _Are_ you okay?”

“Well I’m not strapped down on a table so yeah…I’m _okay_.”

Jemma flinched. _Well then…_

James, realizing what he’d said, dropped her hand as though he burned her. He growled something in Russian, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck…I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“James-”

He took a deep breath, his hands trembling. “I need some air.”

She reached out to grab his arm. “James, it’s alright-”

“No it’s not.” He dodged her hands, his body rigid. “ _A weapon has no other purpose but to harm…_ ” He looked at her, pale eyes saying more than words ever could. “Let me go.”

Jemma stepped back and watched him hurry out, the words from earlier on the roof bringing the conversation to the forefront of her mind. There was a piece of it that brought her to a standstill. _I’ve been out from under Hydra’s thumb for almost two years and I’d foolishly hoped that I would never harm another person I cared about…But after what I’ve done to Steve and now to you…_

Jemma sank into the chair he had occupied, finding herself unable to stand upright as she finally realized what he meant when he’d said that. Her voice sounding loud in the empty room. “He _cares_ about me?”


	14. Assumption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses for why this update took so long to be posted, except that I rewrote the ending at least three different times and that college has started again and it kicking my ass. I'm not sure if I'm happy with the ending i stuck with, but I hope you guys enjoy reading it.

Jemma didn’t know how long she’d sat there when a knock sounded on the door and hardly registered that she’d let someone in until a shadow fell over her. She looked up, startled, and met the worried dark eyes of Daisy.

“Jemma, everything okay?”

“Daisy, what are you-?”

“I saw Barnes and he looked…upset. I was concerned.” She looked around the room, taking in the surroundings, her eyes settling the bag. “Did something happen with-?”

“No, the blood draw went fine, but he was kind of out of it afterwards. I asked if he was alright and he said he was fine, but…”

“Hey, how ‘bout we take this stuff back to the lab and you can tell me when we get to your room.” She picked up the bag. “Is that okay?”

Jemma nodded, getting to her feet and pushing the chair in. The walk to the lab was silent and even the humming of the lab equipment couldn’t quell the havoc her thoughts were causing in her mind. While Daisy disposed of the other container, Jemma went to catalogue the samples and didn’t say a word until they stepped out of the lab. “Can we go to the roof?”  

Daisy didn’t hesitate, changing directions.

Jemma was grateful for the cool air as she took a deep breath, her eyes wondering to the night sky. The three quarter moon cast a silver glow over everything and as she rested her forearms on the ledge, she felt Daisy come to stand at her right and place a comforting hand on her shoulder. Tension that she hadn’t realized she had left her body.

“What happened Jemma?”

Jemma sighed. “I just wanted to know if he was okay. I didn’t realize I was pushing him until he made a comment that “he wasn’t strapped down to a table, so he was okay.” Before I could even get two words in he just left.” She looked at her friend. “The thing is…I think he thought I would be angry with him or hurt by the words.”

“You weren’t?”

“No I….” Jemma ran a hand through her hair. “We had a discussion about how he didn’t see me as scientist that would use him and that I didn’t see him as a weapon just an hour earlier. He was just…on edge is all.”

“Jemma…”

“I should’ve known better than to ask…”

“Jemma…”

“I just didn’t want to push him…”

“Jemma, relax. I wasn’t going to say anything.” Daisy smiled fondly, but her eyes were reading her and apparently they found something. “Something else happened.”

Jemma’s face went bright red at her friend’s look. “James…cares about me.”

“Of course he does!”

Her mouth fell open. “Wait…what?”

Daisy was amused. “You didn’t know?”

Jemma shook her head.

“You know, for one of the most brilliant minds to come out of S.H.I.E.L.D., you can be so oblivious at times.” Daisy rested her forearms on the ledge as well. “Besides Rogers and now Isabelle, I hardly see him act that way around others the way he does around you.”

“What way?”

“You know…laughing, smiling, having an actual conversation.”

She smiled at Daisy, her blush not fading in the slightest. The smile faded, though, as she recalled what her friend had said when she’d come to find Jemma. “How was he when you last saw him? You said he was upset?”

Daisy’s brow furrowed. “Not upset, more like…overwhelmed. He and Steve left to go for a run about…” She checked her watch, “A half hour ago.”

Since she knew both men could top speeds at nearly thirty to forty miles an hour, Jemma assumed that Steve was hoping to run his friend to exhaustion. Running, she knew, was a way to relieve oneself of stress and James needed that. She secretly hoped he wouldn’t be _too_ tired, though, because she wanted to talk to him about what had caused him to need the run in the first place.

Her friend seemed to read her thoughts. “He should be back in about ten minutes.”

Jemma nodded; her gaze on the forest once more. She couldn’t but wonder where James and Steve were out there. She could almost picture the two super soldiers weaving through the trees with the same fluid grace in which they spared, not making a sound.

“You’re worried about him.”

Jemma noticed her fingers were tapping out a rhythm on the stone. She clenched her hands into fists, not looking at Daisy. “Yes.”

Daisy laughed quietly to herself.

Jemma turned to her with a questioning look. “What?”

Daisy shook her head with a smile. “Nothing Jemma.”

Jemma decided to not to push the matter, instead returning her gaze to the surrounding landscape. The following silence stirred her thoughts and they wouldn’t leave well enough alone. Was Daisy laughing at the fact that Jemma was worried for one of the world’s most deadly assassins? If so…It wasn’t as though she was concerned for his _physical_ well being, but it was everything on the inside that warranted the worry. He’d admitted to her himself that Hydra’s programming was still in his head and could be triggered with the right words in the right order.

The sound of the roof door opening pulled her away from the dark forest and realized that the reason it had been silent was because Daisy had left. She was surprised (and relieved) to find James silently making his way over to her.

Jemma wasn’t sure if it was because of the realization she’d come to about his feelings for her or the feelings she’d come to feel for him, but he looked beautiful standing there in the silver light. The shadows played across his features in a way that made her want to run her fingers along his jaw. She blushed at the thought, her hands clenched at her sides.

He clasped her shoulder. “Jemma?”

Before she could convince herself to stop, she stepped into his touch and wrapped her arms around his waist. Jemma pressed her face into his chest, so she could hear his steady heartbeat finally falter as his arms wound around her. She smiled for a moment before her tumultuous thoughts caused her to speak. “Don’t run away like that again James…I was worried.”

He stiffened. “Worried?”

"You were upset. I wanted to know if you were _really_ okay.”

He flinched, pulling back. “About that Jemma I’m-”

“You don’t need to apologize James.” She closed her hands around the metal of his left. “I’m the one who needs to. I pushed you to do something you were uncomfortable with and I swore to myself I would _never_ subject you to anything that those _monsters_ who _dare_ call themselves scientists did.”

His free hand reached up to touch her cheek.

Jemma’s voice died in her throat, but she leaned into his touch anyways. She watched his expression as she did, his lips parting slightly in surprise. Jemma smiled at him. She could see the wonder and disbelief in his eyes.

His thumb traced her bottom lip. “So beautiful…”

She sucked in a breath, eyes wide at the intimate gesture. Her heartbeat sounded so loud in her ears and all she could do was stare into his pale irises, his gaze once again holding her in place. It almost distracted from the feeling of his left hand settling on her lower back, bringing her close enough to feel his breath against her skin. Jemma had no time to draw air in before he closed his lips over hers.

It hardly lasted a second before he stepped back.

 “James?”

He was shaking his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to assume-”

“James look at me.” Jemma reached up to his face, giving into the earlier urge and letting her fingers run along his jaw. She waited until he was focused on her to continue speaking, cheeks burning. “You assumed right.”

He seemed to be gauging the sincerity of her words. Then he lowered his lips to hers, cool metal cupping her jaw and the fingers of his right hand tangling themselves in her hair. He pulled her flush against him, his body acting as a barrier for the cool air.

Jemma wound her arms around his neck; the heat of his body felt through the long sleeved shirt she wore. His lips were so soft against hers, her nail digging into his neck as he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue. Her mouth parted beneath his with a sigh and she felt the part of herself that had had died with Will when the portal had shut behind her come blazing to life.

He pulled back just enough for them to catch their breath, his forehead resting against hers. He smiled down at her and for the first time, she saw no brokenness when his slate blue eyes met hers.

Jemma returned the smile, closing her eyes as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Fingers ghosted down her arms and intertwined with hers. She stared down at their hands, then up at him. “So what now?”      

“Now?” Letting go of her hands, his left arm wound around her waist and pulled her against his chest. James brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I’m just gonna hold you.”

 Jemma sank into his warmth and closed her eyes, breathing in his scent of pine and wet soil. She hardly noticed both arms wrap around her waist, his heartbeat in her ear a comforting sound. Nothing else was said and Jemma wasn’t sure how long they stood there until the sound of the door opening startled them apart.

It was Steve, who had poked his head out with the brightest grin on his face.

“Quit smilin’ like that…You look like an idiot.” James still had an arm around her waist.

“What? Can’t I be happy for my best pal?” His expression didn’t dim.

James snorted, a genuine smile curling his lips. “As if I could stop ya.”

Jemma could only watch the exchange with a smile all her own. Her mind brought her back to the first interaction she’d seen with Steve and James when she’d watched them spar. They both seemed so much at ease…lighter even. It was as though James’ distress had weighed on them both and now that he was smiling and speaking in that warm Brooklyn drawl, a burden had been lifted. She flicked her gaze to Steve, who caught her looking and grinned. Her face burned and Jemma guessed she should consider herself lucky that it’d been Steve instead of Daisy.

“Well…I’ll leave you two then.”

As the door shut, a cool breeze brushed against her skin and Jemma shivered. She hadn’t exactly been dressed to stand on the roof, but James’ warmth had caused her to completely forget.

“Let’s get back inside.” He held out his right hand.

She took his left hand instead, to his surprise, and smiled. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I rush the kiss or did it work for you guys? 
> 
> As for the next update, i'll try not to make guys wait for a month and a half. Until next time!


	15. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally another update! I feel like a broken record when I say I'm sorry about the wait, but i hope you all enjoy!

Jemma didn’t think anything could wipe the smile off her face, the memory of his kiss and his taste making it easier to ignore Hunter obnoxious comments and Daisy’s prodding. That was, until she went to the lab to run the sample of James’ blood against the ZS 397. The testing itself didn’t take too long and when they came in, Jemma rested her elbows on the edge of the holotable, her fingers rubbing circles on her temples.

She didn’t know how long she’d been staring at the screen, but her eyes were now straining to reread the results of the comparison between the samples, trying to figure out what caused James to survive where thirty-four others died within two days of being injected. Was he the first attempt? Were there other successful subject before him? Or was he just a genetic anomaly? Because the components in the blood matched those found in the ZS 397 and there had to be a reason…

“Jemma?”

She looked up, meeting Daisy concerned gaze. “Hey.”

Jemma just shook her head, motioning to the screen.

She came closer, reading the screen. Daisy was quiet for a moment as she took in the results. “What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Why was he the only one of thirty-four to survive? I haven’t been able to get a definitive answer from these results.” Jemma sighed. “It’s frustrating.”

Daisy smiled. “Well that explains why you’ve been in the lab all day.”

“Really?” Jemma looked at the clock, trying to remember what time she’d come in.

“Yes _really_.” Daisy folded her arms across her chest, a quiet laugh slipping out. “You know you’re…shadow has been stalking around the base all day. He’s putting some of the lower level agents on edge.”

Jemma blushed despite her earlier frustration, realizing just how much of an impact she had on him. She was about to ask why he hadn’t just come to check on her, her mood sobering as she remembered his refusal to step foot in a lab. He wouldn’t know what was going on… Jemma pulled off her latex gloves and shrugged out of her lab coat, draping it over her chair. “Where is he?”

“Right now?” Daisy could see her friend’s concern, her teasing demeanor dimming. “Currently in the gym…destroying punching bags.”

Jemma was out the door before Daisy had even finished responding. She ignored the looks as she nearly ran to the gym on the other side of the base. How could she forget about telling him as soon as she found out? He had to be worried that something was wrong…

Standing the doorway to the gym, it reminded her of the hours following his cold dismissal of her on the roof. She was even as nervous now as she was then, worried what his response was going to be. Would he be angry with her? Would he be cold? She’d take anything over that empty voice that sounded like his heart had been carved from his chest… Shaking the memory of that voice from her mind, she took a deep breath, before stepping into the gym.

Daisy hadn’t been too far off. Sand covered the floor, looking more like a desert than the impeccable black mats, and Jemma noted with concern he hadn’t bothered to wrap his right hand nor had he noticed her presence. Or maybe he had, Jemma never could tell.

The sweat that soaked through the dark grey tank top hinted had just how long he’d been at it and Jemma couldn’t but admire the muscles of his back and shoulder ripple with each strike, the metal of his left arm catching the harsh lighting. This time, though, she didn’t jump as a strike from his right arm snapped the chains holding up the bag and sand spilled out the gaping hole.

His breathing was harsh and he growled something in Russian.

“James?” Jemma hated how shaky and nervous her voice sounded to her ears, quickly seeing James tense for a moment before turning around.

His usually pale face was flushed, his unbound hair clinging to his temples and neck. Cold eyes warmed as he blinked and he ran his right hand through his hair, the action causing the hem of his shirt to rise and reveal a sliver of pale olive skin.

Jemma’s face heated when he noticed her watching and he smiled, the action not reaching his shadowed eyes. What had he been thinking? “James, I’m sorry I was in the lab so long and I didn’t know how much time had passed and I forgot to tell you-”

At this, his lips turned down. James’ expression was near unreadable. “What did you find out?”

Her heart was in her throat at the detached way he spoke, the emptiness that she had feared present in his voice. Jemma hated when he did this, retreated into himself. It felt like chipping at ice with a spoon, it was frustrating and tiring to pry him out of his mind. She fought the need to touch him, knowing full well that it wouldn’t be welcome at the moment. She swallowed and somehow managed to speak clearly past the lump in her throat, her voice only shaking once. “The ZS 397…is the serum that you were injected with in 1943.”

“It took you twelve hours to figure that out?”

The coolly delivered question stung like one of the cuts delivered by Ward. Jemma barely negated the urge to slap him…just barely. That wouldn’t go over well at all. “What the hell is going on with you? I said I was sorry.”

A hollow laugh left his lips. “Didn’t realize my blood sample was so interesting that you could…forget to tell anyone the results. Why is that? Thinking of studying me next?”

The crack of her hand hitting his cheek shocked them both, but Jemma kept going. She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Don’t you _dare_ compare me to them! How many times have I told you that I’m nothing like them? What will it take for you to see that?!”  

James’ expression crumbled into immeasurable guilt when he realized just how upset she really was, his shoulders slumping. His eyes closed in regret and he staggered, leaned against the wall, and sunk to the floor, his head in his hands.

Jemma didn’t see any of it for she was practically running from the room, tears blurring her vision. _What had just happened?_

……………………………………………………………………

Jemma was curled on her bed when Daisy came in, dark eyes flashing. She pushed herself up, grabbing the brace on her wrist. “Don’t Daisy.”

“What did he say to you?”

Jemma could feel the vibrations in her friend’s hands as they clenched into fists. She silently pleaded with Daisy to calm down, to keep her ability under control. Jemma had no doubt that Daisy could take on James, but couldn’t imagine the damage it would do to his arm. No matter how angry she was at him, she didn’t want that. “Please.”

Daisy took a breath and the surrounding air calmed. “What happened?”

“He seemed to think that after looking at his blood…that I would want to study him as well. Safe to say my reaction to that comment was impulsive.” She stared down at her hands, wondering what came over her. She knew he’d been abused in every way possible by the doctors and scientists that had molded him into a weapon and the slap had no doubt reminded him of that. She closed her eyes. _Damnit…_

“Jemma?” Daisy’s hand was light on her shoulder.

“I hit him alright?” Tears prickled in her eyes and her chest felt constricted, like her lungs were being squeezed by cold hands. “I hit him and then I stormed off.”

“Jemma…”

Jemma didn’t look right as the door slid open, but could tell by the way Daisy’s entire body went rigid who it was. She found herself off the bed and grabbing Daisy’s arm once again, her fingers digging into her arm with as much strength as she could. This wasn’t the place for this argument. “Daisy…”

Her dark eyes were full of protective anger as she stared down the Winter Soldier, the hand not in Jemma’s grasp outstretched in front of her. “Leave.”

“Daisy please…let him speak.” Jemma peered past his friend, reading the emotions so clearly displayed in his eyes. He wouldn’t fight Daisy at all, in fact…Jemma was sure he would take any punishment given to him right now. And Daisy would do it too, Captain America’s friend and feared assassin be damned…

Daisy removed her arm from Jemma’s death grip, expression suspicious as she looked back at her. Jemma gave her a weak, reassuring smile. Jemma could see the moment that Daisy relented, her narrowed eyes watching him as she slid past, the door shutting with a quiet _click_ behind her. Jemma had no illusions that she would be just outside the door.

A thick silence hung in the air for a moment and Jemma was surprised when he fell to his knees in front of her, head bowed as though awaiting punishment. Any anger she had toward him had disappeared at the knowledge that he would think he deserved any more punishment…least of all from her. She stepped toward him, placing her hand gently on his shoulders.

He didn’t look up at her touch.

Jemma let her hands travel up the curve of his neck, cup his jaw, and turn his face up to hers. She nearly gasped at the raw guilt swimming in his eyes, at a complete loss for words. So instead, she leaned down and placed a soft kiss to his forehead, hoping to convey what her lead tongue could not. Jemma was shocked for the second time as his arms snaked around her waist and he pressed his face into her stomach, murmuring a litany of apologies in every language he knew.

She was frozen for only a moment before she pushed him away just enough to sink to her knees in front of him, sealing her mouth over his. Her hands tangled into his hair and she found herself pressed firmly against his chest as his metal arm wound around her, his right hand cradling her jaw. The loss of breath was welcome and she smiled into the kiss.

He pulled back soon after, disbelieving eyes roaming her face. “You forgive so easily…God what did I do to deserve you?”

Jemma’s face burned under his gaze, her pulse loud in her ears.

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, warm fingers trailing along her jaw. His lips turned down, “I had no right to say any of those things to you, but when you didn’t come out of the lab, I thought…” He pursed his lips, his mind somewhere else. “It’s never just a blood sample.”

Jemma couldn’t refute the last statement. When she first came to S.H.I.E.L.D., she was only a seventeen year old girl with a million and one questions. Everything had an explanation, if only she could find a solution. She was a scientist through and through and Jemma wasn’t one to let a mystery go without trying to solve it. And the creation of the Winter Soldier was just that…a mystery. How could she explain to him just how easily she could get lose herself in a lab? “When I’m in a lab I just…” She trailed off.

“Get lost in your head?” He finished, as though he’d pulled the words straight from her subconscious. His expression was pensive. “I have some experience in that area.”

A moment of silence passed and a feeling of numbness in her leg made her realize where they both were and Jemma couldn’t help but smile. “We’re sitting on the floor.”

“That we are.” His lips curled into a smirk. “Would you like to move somewhere more comfortable?”

The heated look he shot her had Jemma smiling and rolling her eyes despite the blush turning her face bright red. How could he go from cold to angry to guilty to flirtatious? His emotions were all over the place and for perhaps the millionth time she wondered what was going through his mind… “Off the floor would be nice.”

In one smooth movement, and with a grace she envied, he was on his feet and holding out his right hand. His smirk widened into a roguish flash of teeth.  “Ms. Simmons?”

The moment her fingers curled around his, Jemma was pulled to his chest and let out a surprised laugh when he spun her around. She closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his chest pressed against her back before he scooped her into his arms and plopped her on the bed. Jemma looked up at him indignantly.

That smile broadened and James chuckled. “What? The bed not comfortable?”

“I can still _walk_ you git.” Her accent thickened with her irritation. “I don’t need you tossing me around like some bloody caveman.”

“Caveman?” He put hand on his chest. “I’ll have ya know doll, that I’ma _perfect_ gentleman.”

“Bloody overprotective is what you are,” Jemma shot back, but there was no longer any irritation in her voice. The endearment in that smooth Brooklyn drawl warmed her insides and she found herself smiling, nearly forgetting the argument from earlier. She patted the empty spot next to her. “But you’re forgiven…for now.”

He hesitated when she spoke, almost as though debating whether or not she was serious.

Jemma was only a little surprised to find him sliding in next to her and she took advantage, curling into his side and resting her head on his chest. She felt him stiffen momentarily, as if he’d been unprepared to become a pillow. “You know James, you are _way more_ comfortable than the floor.”

The tension eased and his arm wrapped around her waist and she didn’t need to look up to hear the smile in his voice. “Glad to hear it.”

Silence filled the room and Jemma concentrated steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek, watching the fingers of his left hand. She didn’t miss the way he purposely wrapped his right arm around her and like she did every time he distanced the arm from her, she reached across his stomach and intertwined her fingers with cool metal. “I’m sorry for hitting you James…”

“I deserved it.”

She pushed herself up at the cool voice, staring into shadowed cobalt eyes. “No you didn’t and don’t you dare try to convince me that you did. We both said things and did things that were uncalled for because we were angry. I refuse to let anger come between us alright?”

Her admonishment brought life back into his face and he smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead and whispering in a language she didn’t know. She didn’t ask what he’d said, the way he held her told her enough and Jemma allowed the steady rise and fall of his chest lull her into a blissful, dreamless sleep.


	16. Unbalanced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! The time between updates was long once again, but now I feel like I finally know where this story is going and the updates should come a little faster. I hope you enjoy it!

Waking up to his chest beneath her cheek was a surprise to her…she’d expected him to slip away once she fell asleep, but she wasn’t complaining. His heat seeped into her skin and Jemma breathed in his scent of sweat, metal, and gunpowder; the combination, oddly, made her smile and burrow into his side. 

Jemma knew James was a light sleeper, that is, if he ever got any sleep and wondered if he was humoring her by not reacting to her change in breathing. She’d seen May go from asleep to alert in the same moment and had no doubts James could do the same.

He seemed at peace right now, though, his body languid as evident of the warm arm still draped across her waist. His heartbeat was strong and steady beneath her cheek and when Jemma chanced a look up, she saw that his face was serene, peaceful, and free of the shadows of Hydra.

She didn’t want to move too much for fear that it would wake him, but her growling stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday _before_ she’d went into the lab. Jemma sighed inwardly and went to detangle herself from him when her door slid open and Daisy entered, talking animatedly,

“Hey Jemma, how-”

What happened next was a blur as Jemma found herself suddenly behind James, his body tightened like a coil and ready to spring…and _where_ in the hell did the knife come from? She peered around James to meet Daisy’s widened eyes. She reached out, her hand gently pushing down the arm holding the knife. “James?”

He blinked, shaking his head, and finally realized what had happened. The knife clattered to the floor and his face paled when he saw Daisy’s defensive stance. “I didn’t- I… _Shit…_ I’m sorry.”

“Hey it’s alright.” Daisy smiled, arms once again lose at her side and she shrugged. “It happens.”

Jemma understood. She didn’t know how long it had taken for her to stop sleeping with the shiv under her pillow and she knew Daisy still woke with Ward and Trips’ names on her lips, her powers lashing out at whoever had the unfortunate luck to wake her.

James seemed a little unsettled by Daisy’s reaction, his eyebrows pulling together as he tried to read her. What he found must’ve convinced him enough to give Daisy a small smile before he pressed a kiss to Jemma’s forehead, bent down to pick up the knife, and slipped out of the room without a sound.

Daisy watched him leave. “Sooo….”

Jemma put a hand up. “No, just no.”

“Did you guys kiss and make up?”

_Bloody hell…_ Jemma didn’t bother saying anything more, the blush currently spreading across her cheeks and neck telling her friend everything. She mockingly glared at Daisy, who seemed content to squeal like a child, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Daisy-”

“You _did_ didn’t you?”

“Daisy-”

“ _That’s_ what happened on the roof. I wondered why Rogers was grinning like an idiot.”

“Daisy-”

“Is he a good kisser? It seems like he would be with the whole 40s Brooklyn thing-”

“Daisy!” Jemma finally rose her voice, stopping Daisy’s fangirling thoughts. She didn’t blame Daisy at all. Having two legendary icons on base would do that to anyone, especially if they were two very attractive super soldiers and one who could pull the air from her lungs with a single kiss… _Damn_. Now her thoughts were running away from her. “What were you going to ask when you came in?”

“I _was_ going to ask how you and James’ talk went, but I can see that I don’t need to.”

“So you didn’t stand guard outside my door?” Jemma arched an eyebrow, readying her outfit for the day: black trousers and a pale blue button up.

“I may be nosy, but I know when privacy’s wanted.”

“I appreciate that Daisy.” Jemma paused in grabbing a fresh towel, turning to her. “Really, I do.”

“Anything for a friend.” Daisy’s smile warmed, “I’ll let you get ready.” And with a small wave, exited the room.

Jemma took a quick shower and got dressed, pulling her damp hair into a ponytail and brushing her teeth. After pulling on her shoes, she left the room with a smile on her face.

Entering the kitchen, she placed a kettle of water on the stove, taking note of the time on the clock next to the dial. _10:26 am_. Not _too_ late for breakfast then. Too hungry to cook, she grabbed a frozen sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit. Putting the sandwich in the microwave and punching in the time, she pressed the start button and readied a cup of green tea.

Pouring the hot water into a cup, she took the sandwich and turned to pick up her tea. It was almost déjà vu, seeing James holding her tea out of reach in his left hand. Jemma sighed, not even trying to reach for it. “Seriously?”

“Lighten up doll.”

Jemma frowned, the endearment not helping.

James smiled, drawing her into a long lingering kiss.

When his teeth caught her bottom lip she couldn’t help but lean into him, almost dropping her food as her chest was pulled flush against his. She was nearly drunk on his warmth, his scent and taste intoxicating. It made it easy to ignore the fact that they were in a very public place and when he stepped back, she barely bit back the whine and by the time she came to her senses, he was already seating himself at a table with her tea in hand. Jemma didn’t know what she was more irritated by: him or her body’s reaction _to_ him.

Huffing out a breath, she grabbed a Greek yogurt from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer before taking her sandwich over to where he was sitting. Jemma tried unsuccessfully to ignore him as she ate her sandwich and yogurt, his gaze burning like lasers into her skull. Relenting, she met his eyes with a pointed look of her own, her voice surprisingly cool and steady. “Is my tea up to your safety standards James?”

Even with her calm voice, he seemed very pleased with himself, leaning back into his chair with his arms folded across his broad chest. “Wouldn’t want you to burn yourself now would we _sweetheart_?”

“Hot tea is the best tea, _love_.” Setting down her yogurt, she picked up the tea and took a sip. If he’d held it any longer, the metal would’ve leeched all heat from the liquid. “You’re lucky this isn’t too cold.”

“You Brits are real picky ‘bout your tea.”

Hunter chose this moment to walk in. “She’s right mate. Cold tea is just bloody awful.”

Jemma smiled, waving to Hunter as he walked past her, taking another sip. _Point one for me_.

James just laughed, shaking his head. “My apologies ma’am.”

Jemma knew, though, by the curve of his lips that he would be doing it again. She was about to say just that when James’ expression hardened, her hackles rising at the air around him. What was going on? She looked over her shoulder.

Daisy looked the odd combination of apprehensive and serious, like whatever she was coming to tell them was something that she didn’t want talk about. “Can I talk to you in private? Coulson and Rogers are already in the conference room.”

James stiffened, but nodded.

Jemma could only follow him as they both stood and followed Daisy out of the kitchen, the apprehension urging her to take James’ hand. She decided against this given his white-knuckled fist and stood as close to him as she could.

Daisy held open the door to the conference room, giving Jemma a small smile as she shut the door behind her and enabled the security protocols. She waited the metal slid over the windows and doors before turning on the holotable.

“When Bobbi, Jemma, and I went to the last Hydra base, I decided to take a peek into their computer systems…ancient as some of them are. Considering most of their bases’ systems use similar codes and firewalls and security protocols, I used this base’s coding to hack into the other systems.” Daisy’s finger blurred across the smooth surface, “This particular base caught my attention.” With a swipe of her hand over the table, a three dimensional image came into focus.

Jemma recognized the image immediately: the Alps.

James went completely still and she heard Steve suck in a sharp breath.

“This base’s location,” She pointed at green dot, “Is a manmade bunker in the side of Mont Blanc. Once I decoded the inventory, I found high quantities of ZS 397 and advanced medical and mechanical technology.”

Jemma froze as James growled something in Russian and could hear the plates shifting and realigning on his arm at a frantic rate. Realization dawned on her as Daisy continues. _No…_

“With Coulson’s permission, I obtained the mission report from 1945 and _this_ …” Daisy pulled up another location, a highlighted area at the bottom of a ravine near the base’s location, her eyes sliding to James and she nodded to him. “…is the estimated location of where you’d fallen based a calculation Fitz and I created using the report and the weather at that point in time. The base is no more than fifteen miles north of the ravine and given this distance, it is likely that this was where you were taken when you were found.” She paused, pulling up four documents side by side.

Jemma recognized Cyrillic, but there were some characters that differed…maybe Bulgarian or Ukrainian? The last one was in English and what she began to read chilled her…

“To confirm this, I cross referenced other known Hydra bases with the numbers ‘397’. These four documents are-”

“Weapon shipments.” James' voice was flat.

Daisy nodded solemnly, not the least bit upset with the interruption. “Specifically, a large container labelled only ZS 397. The dimensions of this container matched that of a cryogenic capsule. This…” Daisy paused again, this time to take a steadying breath. “…container was first shipped from this base to Kiev in 1973, then to Siberia in 1990, back to Kiev in 1993, and finally to Washington DC in 2011.”

Jemma could feel the temperature of the room drop. The fact that the Winter Soldier had been relocated to DC the same year Captain America was found was no coincidence. Jemma looked over at Steve, who hands were clenched into fists atop the table, then at Coulson and Daisy. Her gaze finally settled on James and Jemma wondered belatedly, why she was even here. All she felt like was a spectator to an impending collapse, completely helpless as cracks widened and pieces began to crumble in James’ stony expression.

“Is it still active?” Steve’s voice was colder than Jemma had ever heard it.

“Yes. Since the base’s construction in 1944, it has remained active to this day.” Daisy then pulled out a file and handed it to both Steve and James. “This is a layout of the base and security, complete with guard shifts…”

Jemma found herself unable to focus enough to listen on what else Daisy was saying. She’d felt like she’d taken blow after blow, not even a chance to catch her breath. She and James had just regained their footing and now she was watching him fall back into the shell he’d been when he’d first arrived. Coulson’s voice pulled her back.

“A Quinjet is being fueled and prepped. It will be ready to depart at 1200 hours in Hanger One. Roger, Barnes, you’re dismissed.”

Jemma flinched as the metal covering the windows and doors slid up, her shoulders stiff as James lithely slid out of his chair and into the hall with the soundlessness of a ghost. She wanted to touch him, but even as she’d felt the heat that had wrapped around her so deliciously in the kitchen only minutes ago (had it only been minutes?), James had been a million miles away. Jemma feared her touch would shatter him completely.

Coulson leaned back against the table, speaking in an almost concerned voice. “Jemma, you will be accompanying them.”

Jemma blinked as yet another blow hit her, too overwhelmed to do anything.

Thankfully, Daisy spoke up, apparently just as shocked as Jemma was. “Coulson, that’s an active military base with over one _hundred_ armed personnel.”

“I’m aware of that Agent Johnson. Jemma will only leave the Quinjet once Captain Rogers _and_ Barnes have declared the base and surrounding area safe. She will grab anything connected to ZS 397 and the Winter Soldier program-”

“And look how well that turned out last time.” Daisy cut in, voice clipped.

“ _Like I said_ , she will grab anything connected to ZS 397 and the Winter Soldier and make sure that no one can get their hands on it. She will be accompanied by either Rogers or Barnes at all times and will be armed with an ICER as well.” Coulson hadn’t appreciated the interruption, regarding Daisy with a slightly irritated look.

“I can speak for myself.” Jemma spoke, glad that her voice had finally decided to work. She turned to Daisy. “I’ll be fine. They won’t let anything happen to me.”

Daisy regarded her, dark eyes letting her know that they _would_ be discussing this at length once they were alone, then handed her a file as well. “Alright then.”


	17. Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 17! I hope you guys like it!

Jemma had just pulled on her S.H.I.E.L.D. combat suit, when there was a knock on the door. She didn’t even look up when she allowed her visitor in. She knew who it was…

“Jemma are you sure about this?” Daisy’s voice was laced with concern.

After zipping up the jacket, Jemma turned to face her. “Really Daisy, I’ll be fine.”

Daisy folded her arms across her chest. “You didn’t look fine in there.”

Jemma paused in pulling on her boots. “I’m worried about James. He just…seemed so far away.”

“How would you feel going back to that alien world?”

The question was asked gently, but she couldn’t stop the blood that drained from her cheeks and Jemma rested her head in her hands, elbows digging into her thighs. Just the thought made her want to curl into a ball. “That’s just it Daisy. I _know_ what he’s feeling, in a sense…I don’t want to lose him to…” Jemma paused, unsure of how to describe the hollow man he’d been when he’d first shown up. “I don’t want to lose him to…the machine they made him into.”

“Everyone has to fight their own battles Jemma.” Daisy crouched in front of her. “And everyone has to face their demons. He will face his.”

“He’s been fighting them for seventy years…” Jemma remembered the rooftop with sudden clarity, how hands that had given her bruises began to shake as though he had no control over them and the ice in his eyes had shattered with a small choked off sound. “I see it in him every day.”

Daisy reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Then help him. That’s all you can do.”

“But what if it’s not enough?” Jemma stared down at her own hands, the burns from the tea nearly faded completely. That night had seemed so long ago and now it looked like they were going back to the beginning. “What if _I’m_ not enough?”

“No.” Daisy hard voice forced her eyes up. “You will be. James has Steve _and_ you. Between Steve Rogers and Jemma Simmons, James Barnes will be just fine.” She stood, hands on her shoulders. “Keep me updated?”

“Me? If I know you, you’ll be on comms right along with Coulson.” Jemma bent over to pull on her socks and boots, pausing as she laced them to look up, smiling as Daisy chuckled.

“You know me so well.”

Jemma finished lacing up her boots and stood. “Thank you Daisy.”

Daisy gave her an innocent look. “For what?”

Jemma pushed at her shoulder. “You know what…now come on, I need to go to the armory.”

“Yes ma’am.” Daisy mocked saluted, reminding Jemma eerily of James.

She shook those thoughts from her head as they exited her room and Jemma split from Daisy in the direction of the armory. Jemma needed to focus on the mission…or as much as she could with James storming the base that created the Winter Soldier. Of course any effort to keep her mind on the mission at hand went out the window when she caught sight of James _also_ getting his weapons ready.

He was wearing his “Winter Soldier” uniform, complete with the one-sleeved leather jacket, black tactical pants, and black combat boots. James paused for only a moment as she entered before continuing to reassemble the arsenal of guns laid out on the table.

Jemma watched him as each firearm was holstered in a seemingly endless amount of compartments, dimly aware that none were loaded with dendrotoxin. She shouldn’t be surprised by that, of course…the Hydra agents wouldn’t be carrying ICERs on them. Numerous knives and explosive devices were also being added to the walking armory that was the Winter Soldier.

She managed to pull her gaze away, walking over and pulling out the ICER. Jemma leaned over, pulled out a drawer with the dendrotoxin magazine and loaded the gun. The grip was warm in her hands as the safety was clicked on, the gun humming under her fingers. Jemma stared down at the gun, the glowing blue lines like veins in the metal.

It was this moment that the mission _really_ sank in and Jemma’s hands began to shake to the point where she had to set it down, flinching as it clattered loudly on the table. _Shit…_

A warm hand curled over hers. “Jemma…you alright?”

Ignoring the weapons strapped to him, she turned and wrapped her arms around his waist. She could feel him stiffen and she feared he would step away, but he only pulled away so his hand could turn her face up. She leaned to his touch, “I’m sorry for worrying you-”

“You don’t need to apologize…” His thumbs brushed her cheekbones, one callused and one smooth, dark eyebrows pulled together and voice trailing off as he glanced at the ICER on the table. James’ eye narrowed and his jaw clenched, having already put the pieces together. “No.”

“James-”

“You are _not_ coming.” His voice was low. “I will _not_ bring you into that fucking hellhole.” James’ hold tightened momentarily on her face before he stepped back, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “Director’s orders be damned.”

“I won’t leave the Quinjet until you and Steve say it’s safe. Once-”

“You’ll be safer if you never step foot on the Quinjet.”

“James!” She snapped, her voice rising. “Once on the base, I have orders to take anything connected to ZS 397 and the Winter Soldier program and destroy it so that no else can get their hands on it. I _know_ what to look for.”

“So do I.”

“I know, but will you be able to walk into the lab? Will you be able to objectively look at the machines and chemicals and instruments that Zola used on you?”

“I don’t need to enter the lab to destroy it.” James’ voice was flattening.

“Please…don’t do that to me!” Jemma took his face in her hands, the stubble scratching her skin. “Don’t go all distant on me James…I hate it.”

“You’re not going.” James repeated, his tone taking a more worried edge.

“What are you scared of James?” She tried to read him, but he refused to meet her gaze. Her voice was soft, “You can tell me… _please_. With you, I’ll be very well protected-”

“Therein lays the problem…you shouldn’t want me at your side, not in that place.” He let out a slow breath, his hands sliding down the curve of her shoulders and settling on the swell of her hips. “The man that you see in me, the man that you…care for…will be gone. The second I enter that base, I will put down _any_ agent who gets in my way by _any_ means necessary.” His voice had lowered into a growl. “I don’t want you to see that.”

“Nothing you do to them will be anything less than they deserve.” Jemma stated, holding his startled stare. Her hands held tightly to the straps of his vest, pulling him forward until they stood a breath’s length apart. “And when it’s all over I _know_ you’ll come back.” Her lips curled into a smile despite everything. “You always do.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

Her grin widened at his smirk, “I have been told that once or twice.”

“And cheeky too.” He stepped forward, his amusement transforming into something _much_ more heated. James’ arms were on either side of Jemma, slowly backing her up until the counter began to dig into her lower back and his chest was flush against hers. “What will I do with you?”

She wound her arms around his neck, pulling him for a soft kiss. Jemma gasped as his hands slid over her bottom and gripped her thighs before he lifted her until she was seated on the table. Her hands trailed down his chest, feeling just barest hint of warmth beneath the cool leather and weaponry. It was _that_ that had Jemma leaning back, staring up at him with a determined gaze. “Take me with you?”

Someone cleared their throat, effectively cutting off his response. “Am I interrupting something?”

_Coulson._  Jemma’s head fell back, clanging against the metal. She could see James visibly tense and he began working his jaw. Jemma pressed lightly against his chest and she slid off the counter, cheeks burning but legs surprisingly steady beneath her. _Why did it have to be Coulson?_ “Sorry-”

“Why are you sending her with us?” James cut her off yet again, his voice losing heat, standing in front of her as though to shield her from Coulson.

“You figured it out then.” The Director’s voice was calm and steady.

“Wasn’t too hard.” James stepped forward. “Now answer my question.”

“Jemma’s knowledge of the ZS 397 _and_ the Winter Soldier Program exceeds that of any other agent here. You need someone who knows how to handle what they will find.”

“You don’t think Steve and I can?” James folded his arms across his chest.

“You and I both know that this isn’t just another base Barnes. This mission is personal for _both_ of you and I will not see this retrieval mission jeopardized because you two lost your cool.”

“ _We_ can handle ourselves just fine.”

“Not from what I saw in the conference room.” Coulson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Captain Rogers is currently going through our current supply of punching bags and you looked seconds away from putting a hole in something. Anger can blind people and I’ve seen missions go south because of it…Besides, Jemma here seems to have calmed you down some...She’ll keep a level head.”

Jemma holstered her ICER, slipping two extra magazines into her belt. She was aware of both sets of eyes on her as she did, Coulson’s comment that she’d ‘calmed’ James down causing the blush that was currently crawling down her neck.

James turned to look at her and sighed in resignation. “You will stay in the Quinjet until _I_ say it’s clear. Got it?” His voice left little room for argument and Jemma could only nod.

Coulson himself seemed relieved, “Good, now we have that all taken care of…the Quinjet is ready for departure.”

James nodded and Jemma followed him to the hanger, struggling to keep up with his long and purposeful stride. She debated actually running after him, but decided against that given that it would only serve to draw _more_ attention to her and that James would get a kick out of it. She would have to ask Steve how to get back at him when this was all over…

Said super soldier looked up when they entered, his lips twitching with an amused smile when he said James’ brooding expression and her exasperation. “You two ready?”

“Don’t be so damn smug Stevie.” James went to seat himself in the pilot’s chair. “You had something to do with this didn’t you?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.” Steve deadpanned.

“You’re still a shit liar.” James sat down, strapping himself in. “What are you trying to do?”

Steve’s face suddenly turned serious. “Show you that you can’t do everything alone. I know you, Buck. You would’ve stormed this base with or without help.”

He huffed out a breath, but didn’t say anymore.

Steve’s mouth was a tight line, eyes pleading with Jemma.

Jemma took a deep breath and made her way up to the front of the Quinjet, her footsteps loud and clear as she stood behind him an placed her hands on his shoulders. The metal felt cold under her palm and as she leaned forward, her fingers slipped beneath the strap and she could feel the beginnings of the scarred skin that connected flesh and chromed metal. She felt him tense up, but she didn’t stop, instead moving her hands down his arms like she hadn’t noticed a thing. “I know you don’t want to hear this James, but Steve’s right. You can’t do everything alone, even if you were trained to. You have Steve and you have me. You have help.”

He didn’t speak, but his loosening muscles said a lot and James turned his head slightly, his intense expression broken by the ghost of a smile on his lips.

She knew he was placating her, but she returned the smile anyways and she quickly kissed his cheek before she returned to her seat. Jemma caught Steve’s nod of thanks and took the proffered mission file from his hand. “Thanks.”

He nodded once more before joining James in the cockpit.

………………………………………………………………

The file wasn’t too long, only eating away forty-five minutes off the two hour flight, and Jemma wondered if that was a good or bad thing. Her thoughts of course, gave her plenty of ideas. Every outcome, from success to death ran through her mind and she wished that there some way to shut her brain off for just a little bit…

“You okay?”

Jemma jumped a little when Steve sat next to her, long legs stretched out in front of him. She hadn’t expected him to come over, so used to him sitting or talking with James. Her emotions must have been all over his face because he made a motion with his head.

“He always gets real quiet before a mission…” Steve smiled to himself. “That hasn’t changed.”

“He didn’t seem quiet, though, he seemed…angry.” Jemma looked down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “I’ve seen him get lost in his emotions Steve. I’m afraid of what this mission will do to him.”

“That’s why I wanted you here.” Steve leaned back against the wall, blue eyes boring into hers. “Since you came into his life…I see more of Bucky every time I look at him. You’ve changed him…for the better and I hope that your presence here will help him.”

“You and me both…” Jemma sighed, her fingers now digging into his knees. She couldn’t help but remember Coulson’s comment from earlier. “How are _you_? And don’t say you’re fine.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “You sound just like Bucky.” He took a breath, forearms resting loosely on his knees. “I guess I’m worried about him. Every base we destroy, I see this…emptiness in him that I fear will swallow him whole. I feel guilty and no matter what I tell myself or what anyone else says…” His voice was hardening.

Jemma’s gaze returned to her lap for a moment. “You’re angry…you have every right to be.”

Blue eyes darkened for a moment and it looked as though he was taking a calming breath, but his words were clipped and forced through clenched teeth. “They turned him into some mindless… _thing_. I see it in him now and…” He lets out a sigh, the anger seemingly draining away as fast as it had come. “I’m not naïve to think he’ll ever go back to way he was in 1945…hell, I changed after I woke up from the ice.” He ran a hand down his face. “This base…I’d love nothing more than to raze it to the ground and not look back, but I can’t let my anger fuel me. Coulson was right. Anger can blind a person, but with Bucky…I’m afraid the part of him that you’ve brought back will die in that base all over again. I can’t lose him…not again.”

Silence followed his emotionally-fueled speech and Jemma, not having any words, rested her hand on his forearm. Jemma couldn’t help but look up at the cockpit, expecting James to have heard what was said, only to find he had a headset on.

“He wouldn’t mind it if you joined him, you know.” Steve motioned with his head. “I won’t intrude…promise.”

Jemma unbuckled herself and stood, wiping her hands off on her thighs. She nervously made her way to the front of the Quinjet, stopping at the entrance. She didn’t have to wait long for him to notice her presence.

He pulled off the headset, tilting his head slightly towards her.

“May I sit?”

James nodded, returning his attention to the controls.

Jemma slipped into the copilot’s chair, a comfortable silence filling the cockpit. She found her eyes wandering over to James as he stared intently at the panel of dials and gauges, the lights of the instruments casting a soft glow on his face and glinting off his arm. She immediately regretted looking as his lips turned up into a smile.

“Enjoin’ the view?”

Jemma just rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“That a yes?” He put the Quinjet on autopilot, turning to face her.

“You’re being quite talkative…” Jemma leaned back in the chair. “Why the sudden change?”

James shrugged, a devil-may-care grin splitting his face. “Maybe it’s the company of the beautiful woman sitting next to me.”

Jemma returned the smile and laughed, but she _knew_ was something going on with him right now and she could see that that smile wasn’t really reaching his eyes. Was he trying to placate her, to convince that he was going to be okay and that this base wouldn’t take _another_ piece of him? She looked down at her lap once more, worrying her lip. “No…but really James. What’s going on?”

“I’m not mad at you.”

Jemma blinked, regarding him with a confused expression. “I never thought you were.”

One dark eyebrow rose.

“I didn’t though.” Jemma stared out into the bright sky. “I knew you just wanted to keep me safe and while you may have _seemed_ angry, I could see through it.” His shadow fell over her and Jemma looked up, meeting his burning gaze.

“Then why didn’t you stay on base?”

“I’ve never turned down an opportunity to help those I care for. A dangerous mission won’t change that James…nothing will.” She reached up, cupping his jaw. Jemma watched as his eyes fell close and he leaned into the touch with an aching heart. “I’m not leaving you.”

Steel blue eyes snapped open and he stared with a combination of startled, amazed, scared…and maybe something more? Jemma didn’t get another moment to read him before he pulled her in for a bruising, breathtaking kiss.

Her hands found the straps of his vest and she held tight, her legs feeling almost completely boneless as his tongue parted her lips. Jemma could feel the emotion he poured into the kiss wrap around her and, just like the warmth he radiated, she soaked it into her skin, her bones…

Time seemed to lose all meaning as they kissed and it took them entirely too long to notice the noise coming from the instruments and James’ expression went carefully blank.

She reached out, putting a hand on the metal bicep. “James, what is it?”

“You should return to your seat.” His voice was as unyielding as the chromed metal. “We’ll be landing shortly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next time! :)


	18. History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

It was almost eerie, how quickly James and Steve slipped into mission mode. Jemma watched Steve sling his shield onto his back and James, once again, checked all his weapons before comms were set up and they made contact with Daisy and Coulson back at base.

“Jemma?”

She jumped as Daisy spoke through the comms, noticing that neither James nor Steve had heard. She must’ve been on a separate channel. “Yeah?”

“You alright?”

Jemma sighed. “I’m okay…just a little on edge.”

“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

Jemma looked up as James opened a weapons compartment and pulled out his signature rifle, taking it apart and reassembling it with a speed Jemma could hardly follow. “They’ll be okay?”

“They’ve taken out over a dozen other Hydra bases, Jemma. This one won’t be any different.”

“Even with the…history?”

“Jemma…is that what you’ve been thinking about the entire plane ride?”

“I…” Jemma let out a breath, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t help it. My brain just won’t shut up…you know?”

Daisy laughed. “I know the feeling.”

“I’m worried I’ll lose him in there.” She glanced over at James, who seemed to be a million miles away as Steve spoke to Coulson on comms. “Already I can see a change in him…and not a good one. He’s retreating into his head and that, in my experience, hasn’t gone well yet.”

“Coulson told me about his talk with Barnes. From what I gathered…you being there will keep James at the forefront and the Soldier at bay…you need to trust that you’re enough and that James will stay the man you love.”

Jemma didn’t think she could turn that red. “What? That’s ridiculous, I don’t-”

“Okay, so maybe ‘love’ is a strong word…but you care for him right?”

“Yes.” There was no question about _that_ in Jemma’s mind. Did she love him though? She tried to remember what it had felt like with Will… She closed her eyes, slamming a door on those memories. That way only lay pain and grief…

“He cares for you too Jemma…I can see that.” She paused. “He’ll stay James. Trust that.”

Jemma nodded, so lost in the thought of anything happening to him filling her with such dread, that she forgot that Daisy couldn’t see her. She cleared her throat, the blush slowly fading from her cheeks. “I’ll try.”

“Okay.” Daisy’s smile could be heard through her voice. “I’m gonna connect you back with the boys alright?”

“Thank you Daisy.”

“You’re welcome…now stay safe and good luck.”

There was a click in her ear and Jemma looked up at Steve and James as the Quinjet cargo bay doors opened, feeling the frigid air suddenly fill the space. All she could see were tall pines and white snow. She stared at the rigid set of James’ shoulders and couldn’t help but blurt out, “Be careful!”

Steve turned to her with a smile. “We will.”

James, though, surprised her when he came to stand in front of Jemma. He propped the rifle against the wall and rested his hands on her shoulders, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “With you to come back to…I will.”

Jemma stared at him with wide eyes, completely at a loss for words as he picked up the rifle and went to stand next to Steve before they exited the Quinjet, the door shutting behind them. The silence of the Quinjet suddenly seemed so heavy to her, making it difficult for her to breathe.

That was quickly rectified when she heard the _pop, pop, pop_ of James’ guns and sickening crack of vibranium striking flesh and cracking bone in her ear. Neither spoke, she quickly realized, taking out the men in complete silence and seamless harmony. She _almost_ wished she could see the two of them in action, but based on the screams coming from the downed Hydra agents, Jemma figured that was best left to her imagination…

The assault itself didn’t last more than thirty minutes and she wasn’t really surprised not to hear a single triggered alarm. Daisy had been right, this wasn’t the first Hydra base they’d taken down and it probably (sadly) wouldn’t be the last.

“All clear here.” Steve’s voice was surprisingly normal. He wasn’t even the least bit out of breath. “Buck?”

Silence.

“Bucky?” Steve was instantly concerned. “Bucky, come in.”

“James?” Jemma spoke, unable to keep her voice from wavering in fear. “James…please.”

“All clear.” James breathed out, “’m good.”

Jemma was calling rubbish on that, but it wasn’t as though she could call him out on it over comms or really even press him on it. She tabled that conversation for later and, remembering their discussion from the armory earlier, instead asked, “Is it okay for me to leave?”

“I’ll come meet you.” Was his immediate and curt response. 

She found herself smiling. _Protective James is back._ Jemma stood, wiping her hands on her pants and slipping on the large winter coat before making her way over to the weapons compartments. She pulled out a large black case for transporting ZS 397, a smaller briefcase for the paper files, and a thumb drive so Daisy could clean the base’s computers. After putting on her gloves, she lowered the cargo ramp, revealing a familiar black clad figure approaching. She met him as she stepped off the ramp, “Ready to go.”

He watched her intently as walked over to him. “Need help with that?”

She was about to say no, but as he came closer, Jemma noticed the alarming amount of blood on him. His eyes carried an empty and haunted look to them and his fingers seemed itching for a trigger to pull. He needed something to ground him. She handed him the largest crate with a grateful smile. “Could you? It’s rather clunky.”

He seemed relieved to have something to do and James took the crate from her.

The walk to the base was short yet silent; the only sounds their breathing and the snow crunching beneath their boots. The air was heavily filled with the scent of pine, but there was an undertone of blood and gunpowder. Jemma glanced at James, wondering if he would let her take his hand. The knuckles of his right hand were bruised and split, the wounds already beginning to scab over. Her indecision didn’t last long and she reached out, her fingers brushing his.

He froze and Jemma feared he would pull away, but he let her take his hand.

She intertwined their fingers, his hand warm even through the glove, and she squeezed it. His response was almost immediate, as he seemed to let out a breath, muscles uncoiling. She noticed that his eyes seemed paler, more grey than blue and Jemma wondered if the change of color had anything to do with the presence of the Soldier… She pushed the thought away, though, not wanting to think about the Soldier right now.

He let go of her as the forest opened up, the gun from his thigh holster in his hand.

Jemma was on alert, only realizing a moment later that there wasn’t anyone there. She wouldn’t be outside of the Quinjet otherwise. James would be on edge for the entirety of this mission, maybe even sometime after. She steeled herself for whatever she would see.

The entrance doors looked as though they’d been pried open by both hand and shield and Jemma made sure to steer clear of the jagged edges as she slipped through first, watching her step as she walked down the hallway riddled with the bodies of the soldiers. She didn’t look too closely at them, the blood spatters, smears, and bullet holes telling her everything she needed to know. They reached the end of the hall and Jemma pointed left, “This way right?”

James nodded stiffly, grey eyes watching the bodies on the floor as if he thought they would suddenly stand up and shoot her. Given Hydra’s track record with enhanced and Inhuman individuals, Jemma wouldn’t have been surprised.

She turned the corner, happy to see Steve at the end of the corridor. “Hey.”

“Hey Jemma.” His eyes looked behind her, his concern for James not hidden. “Buck?”

“Said ‘m good Rogers.” The drawl seemed forced, but Steve didn’t say anything more on the subject, seeming to realize, like Jemma, that now wasn’t the best time.

Jemma handed Steve the thumb drive, mindful of the presence behind her. “Just put this in any USB port and Daisy can take from there.”

He nodded, clapping James on the shoulder before he turned and went in the opposite direction. James watched him go, only facing her once he was around the corner. “You won’t need this in there.” He set down the larger crate, not holding her gaze as he picked up the rifle he’d leaned against the wall and faced down the hall, guarding the partially opened door.

Jemma nudged it open, keeping one eye on him as she scanned the dimly lit room. She could see an outline of a large piece of equipment and Jemma was glad she’d set the cases down to turn on the lights,  hers hands flying to her mouth as she realized just what the silhouettes were, masking her cry. God…

The chair was in the center of the room and Jemma wished that Joey was here to mold it into some unrecognizable shape. This horrid contraption was created so Hydra could control their Asset and erase a man with so much…spirit. The unbidden image of him restrained and screaming came to mind and Jemma couldn’t stop her hands from shaking as she picked up the briefcase and forced herself to walk past the chair towards the two filing cabinets.

Setting the case at her feet, she opened it with a soft click and took off her gloves. She pulled out the top drawer and began to empty the contents of the drawer: seventeen files in total and Jemma was actually glad that she couldn’t read German _or_ Cyrillic as she set them in the case and closed the first drawer before moving onto the next drawer.

What she found there had to be years of both electrocardiograms and electroencephalograms, both showing her more evidence of just how much that chair should be torn to shreds. The amount of electric current that that chair had put into his body should’ve killed him instantly and she laid out the electrocardiograms, watching the heartbeat remain completely unchanged one moment and life-threateningly erratic the next. She laid out the electroencephalograms next to them, his brainwaves normal until the ‘cognitive recalibration’ began…

The anger that was flooding through her seemed so commonplace now and she found it difficult to shove away like she’d been somewhat able to in the past. She wanted to tear up the paper and burn it, along with the chair, she wanted to hit something, to break something…anything to release the tension from her body. Jemma closed her eyes instead, pulling up images of James smiling, laughing, the warmth in his gaze as he kissed her… Her hands relaxed and she folded up the readings without taking another glance at them before opening third and final drawer of the first cabinet.

It contained only two manila envelopes and a small metal box. The envelopes contained pictures, a combination of sepia, polaroids, and glossy digitals.  Jemma, again, didn’t want to look, placing the two envelopes on top of the electrocardiograms and electroencephalograms. She took off the lid of the tin and tipped the contents into her hand. It was a set of dog tags… She turned them over, running her fingers over the name. _Barnes, James B. 32557038._ They were _his_ dog tags.

Why would Hydra keep these, such a huge piece of James’ identity so close to James as he himself was erased a little more each time in that damn chair? Had Armin Zola really been so _bloody_ arrogant to believe that his precious _Soldat_ would be his to control? That his experimentation and ‘cognitive recalibration’ would erase James Barnes permanently?

Letting out a breath, she slipped the dog tags around her neck, the metal warming against her skin and giving her a strange sense of comfort as she placed the empty tin into the almost full briefcase. Jemma shut the empty drawer, moving onto the next set of drawers.

One drawer contained schematics and blueprints for the chair, Jemma once again only looking long enough to identify what they before rolling them back up and setting them into the briefcase. Jemma was glad she’d brought one the larger briefcases as she pulled out four rolled up sets of schematics and blueprints. These would fill the last of the space. She unraveled them, sickened to see that familiar pieces of his arm staring back up at her.

Each one contained a separate layer of workings and she made herself roll them back up before she got too distracted. The final one though was showing the metal that’d been placed throughout his body: in his knees and spinal column mostly, supposedly to keep the metal arm from tearing muscles and ligaments despite the ZS 397’s enhancements. The clavicle, scapula, and the entire skeletal and musculature of his left arm as well as other muscles had been replaced with either metal or a synthetic replica.

“Jemma?” James voice came through her comm, a note of worry in his hardened voice. “Do you have everything?”

She hurriedly rolled up the schematics and tied them off with a rubber band. Jemma could study these later…the quicker she did this, the quicker they get out of this place. “Yeah I’m good.” She placed the schematics next to the others and gently closed the lid of the briefcase. “Coming out now.”

He didn’t look back until the door shut firmly behind her, grey eyes widening when he saw the chain around her neck. His right hand reached out, “Are those-?”

“Yes. They’re yours.” She went to take them off. “Do you want them or-?”

“No.” He shook his head, letting the tags fall back against her chest. “You keep ‘em.”

“Wait…really?” She stared down at them, the metal gleaming dimly in the lighting. Jemma placed a hand over them. “I thought you would want them back.”

“They haven’t been mine for a long time…they’re safer with you.” He huffed out a breath, sensing her wanting to speak. James smiled and some of the blue slowly came back into his eyes, his right hand cupping her jaw. “Besides…you look good in ‘em.”

She swallowed, his gaze pinning her and stealing any words she might’ve spoken. Why did he have to go and say things like that? Jemma felt the heat rush to her cheeks, her pulse louder in her ears as he stepped back and went in the direction of the labs. Only when his eyes left her, did Jemma finally move. She slipped the dog tags beneath her shirt and picked up the larger as she followed him.               

Once again, he was standing at the door, stance rigid and a gun clenched tightly in the hand that had felt so warm against her cheek moments before. Setting the briefcase at his feet, she shouldered open the door and made her way over the vial-filled fridge.

Finding the familiar turquoise liquid, a shelf worth, she began the process of moving them to the crate. Jemma tried to ignore the fact that the shelf below it had been full of the same serum and that that shelf was nearly empty with only two vials left, but she felt sick to her stomach. _Twenty-eight_. Twenty-eight vials had been used meaning twenty-eight people were dead, if their experiments were going how they were in the forties…She made quick work of emptying the vials into the case and shut the lid. She went to stand when an explosion rocked the base, dropping Jemma to her knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I won't make you wait too long to find out. I should have the next chapter up within a week, barring all my finals go well... Until next time!


	19. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One final down, three to go! Just thought I'd post now while I have a break between them. Enjoy!

Jemma stumbled to her feet, looking around. Other than a few beakers lying shattered on the floor and her bruised knees and scraped palms, there was little damage done. The explosion must’ve been on the other side of the base, but that meant…

“Steve!” James voice was heard both on the other side of the door and through the comm, the fear for his friend evident. “Steve come in!”

Grabbing the crate, Jemma ran to the door and pulled it open. She hadn’t thought to announce herself until she found James’ gun aimed between her eyes. She dropped the crate and held up her hands, seeing the glaze in his grey eyes. _Where was he? 1945?_  “James it’s me…it’s Jemma.” Her voice was soft and she notice him blink a few times before lowering the gun.

He cursed under his breath, metal hand running through his hair. “Fuck...sorry Jemma, I’m just-” His eyes roamed her body, quickly noticing her injured hands. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just knocked off my feet is all.”

He nodded. “Steve…” His voice sounded younger, a boy scared for his friend.

A groan came through the comm and Steve coughed, “Who shoots a fucking RPG at a mountain? Avalanches _are_ a thing. ”

James’ snorted, smiling despite the situation. “Language Stevie…got a lady present.”

Jemma arched an eyebrow at him.

“Nah she’s good…hangs around you after all.”

Jemma laughed and James actually rolled his eyes. “Are you okay Steve?”

“’m good really. Shield saved me from the brunt of it. You guys okay?”

“Fine.” James’ voice was hard again. “How many hostiles?”

“Fifty I think. Didn’t get a real good look before they shot an _RPG_ at me.” Steve grunted, the sound of moving stone an indicator that he was probably buried beneath rubble. “I can distract them while you and Jemma get to the Quinjet.”

There was a click in Jemma’s ear, Steve’s voice being replaced by Daisy’s.

“Jemma are you alright? I didn’t-” 

“I’m good Daisy. We’re all good.”

“They knew we were coming Jemma. Damnit! I should’ve known it was too easy for me to-”

Jemma’s stomach dropped to the floor, her entire body tensing. She spared a glance at James as he told Steve just how stupid that plan was. “Daisy what do you mean?”

“They…ugh!” A slam came through the comms and Jemma jumped. “They fucking let me in. They let me in get into their systems because they knew who we’d send.”

_No…_ “Are you saying-?”

“They wanted the Winter Soldier and we brought him.”

Jemma’s legs felt weak and she fought the urge to sink to the floor, wide eyes latching onto James. She let out a shuddering breath, finally catching James’ attention.

“Jemma what’s wrong?”

“I…I can’t.” She shook her head and Jemma somehow managed to speak past the lump in her throat. “Daisy…tell them.”

Daisy did as she said, telling them what she had found out.

Jemma found herself ignoring the words and focusing on James’s expression, watching the emotions running through his hard grey eyes. There was so much fear there… “James…”

“Steve, how soon can you get here?” He started walking in the direction of the explosion, weapons at the ready.

There was the sudden burst of gunfire. “Considering they’ve just spotted me…”

“I’m coming to you.”

“No, get Jemma to the Quinjet first. I can take care of myself.”

James turned to Jemma. “Come on, we need to go.”

Jemma nodded, picking up the crates and following him. She was careful to stay behind him, remaining as quiet as she could. Instead of focusing on how close the gunfire was getting, she instead watched James and the soundless way he moved. With the rifle raised, he was a completely different man…a soldier. She tried not to think of _the_ Soldier as his head cocked to the side in an almost mechanical way. Her voice was barely above the whisper, knowing he would hear her. “James?”

In response, his metal hand tore off a doorknob and in one forceful movement, shoved her in and shut the door moments before the silence was filled the _pop, pop, pop_ of James’ rifle and the _ping_ ing of bullets off his arm. Jemma clutched the dog tags so tightly that they dug into her already stinging palms, jumping when the door swung open.

“Come on.” He helped to her feet and handed her the crates before they were off once again.

Jemma hurried to follow, dimly noticing the dozen bodies strewn across the floor. Each had either a bullet through the neck or between the eyes and she chanced a glance at James, who wasn’t even momentarily winded by the encounter…he actually seemed irritated with the whole thing. She didn’t try to speak again, instead sticking as close to him as possible.

Surprisingly, they weren’t interrupted until they reach the entrance of the base and Jemma found herself shoved around the corner, screaming as a bullet hit the wall where her head had been seconds before. Her pulse was loud in her ears as the shooting continued, the sound of a vibranium shield ricocheting off the walls filling Jemma with relief and bringing the firefight to a quick end.

“About time you showed up.” James’ voice sounded almost exasperated.

Jemma stood up, picking up the two crates that had somehow managed to stay pretty much undamaged through the firefight, and walked around the corner. She was met with the sight of two super soldiers standing amidst total carnage, clapping each other on the shoulder.

Steve noticed her first, smiling though the sweat and soot on his face. “You good?”

Jemma could only nod.

 “Let’s get to the Quinjet before any more show up.”

Jemma didn’t say anything in response, only following the two of them out the door and into the clearing. They were all silent as they reaching the edge of the clearing, Steve and James closing ranks around her as they slipped into the forest. The time it took them to reach the Quinjet seemed farther than before and it didn’t help that Jemma nearly jumped at any and every sound she heard. She was relieved to reached the currently cloaked Quinjet and, clicking a button on her comm, the aircraft slowly became visible.

Steve’s eyes scanned the trees before he turned to Jemma. “Get in and secure the cargo. I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of them.”

Lowering the ramp, she hurried to do just that as Steve entered the cockpit. She spared a glance at the silhouette of James against the white snow as she removed her winter coat, noticing the way every part of him seemed coiled like a spring and ready to jump into action…

“Steve get the Quinjet it in the air…” James raised his rifle. “Now!”

Then the gunfire started and Jemma ducked as bullets hit the ramp, arms thrown over her head. She cried out as a shot grazed her shoulder and Jemma suddenly felt the body heat of Steve as he pulled her behind him and held up his shield, bullets pelting the vibranium. She found herself being pushed back into the copilot’s chair, biting down on her lip as pain laced her back.

“What about James?” She asked as the Quinjet signaled it was ready for takeoff.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout me, I’m right behind you.” James’ voice was ragged through the comm, his breathing harsh.

Jemma stood as the aircraft lifted off the ground, ignoring the throbbing in her shoulder. Cold wind rustling her hair as she slowly approached the ramp. They had to be almost ten feet off the ground…she was about to ask how in the _hell_ James would be getting on the Quinjet when a pair of mismatched hands grabbed the edge of the ramp, the man in question pulling himself up onto the ramp and rolling gracefully to his feet.

The ramp had just closed when a violent explosion sent the aircraft tilting sharply to the right and Jemma slammed into the wall and onto the floor, gasping as the impact opened her wound further. There would definitely be bruises later…

“Steve what the hell was that?!” James asked irritably as picked himself up, a fresh cut above his left eye. He helped her up as well, blue eyes narrowing on her back and he growled something under his breath.

“I’m fine. It’s just a graze.” 

“Middle-range ballistic missile. Took out Engine Two.”

James let out a string of curse in multiple languages, finally slipping into English. “We should’ve just blown the fuckin’ place to hell…” He managed to keep his balance as the entire plane shuddered and alarms began ringing. “Steve?”

Jemma didn’t resist as James buckled her in before running to the cockpit to assist Steve, nearly being thrown off his feet as the Quinjet suddenly pitched forward. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears as she clutched the dog tags. They were going to crash…

“Brace for impact!”

Then all Jemma could hear was breaking glass and shredding metal before her head collided against the wall and everything went black

………………………………………………………

_“Jemma, Jemma, Jemma…look at me, look at me, look at me.” Will’s hands forced her to meet his gaze. “Run. Run. Go!”_

_“No!” Jemma choked out._

_“Yes, you can make it. Go!” He shoved her in the direction of the portal._

_“No! No!” Jemma screamed into wind, sand pelting her skin. She swung around, but couldn’t find him in the dim blue landscape… “Will!”_

_“Go Jemma!” His voice was nearly carried away on the wind._

_“Will!” Jemma stumbled forward, eyes searching. “Will! Will!” A sob escaped her and the sound of a single gunshot nearly brought her to her knees. No… “Will!”_

Jemma came to with a gasp, pain immediately flooding through her. She blinked, trying to clear the dots from her vision and lift her head. Her entire body throbbed in time with her heartbeat, the vertigo causing her to close her eyes and wait for it to pass. She went to move instead, realizing a moment later that she was still strapped in.

Jemma tried to piece together the events that had led up to this, but it was hard with the image of Will screaming at her to go. A new pain dug into her chest at that and she pushed it away, forcing herself to lift her head.

The Quinjet was still largely intact, the biting wind against her skin telling her that there was a breach of some kind. The scent of smoke was heavy in the air and the static in her ear told her that comms were down. Jemma tried to focus her gaze on the cockpit, but the light refracting off the snow felt like a kick to her skull and she closed her eyes.  

“James?” She croaked, her voice sounding as if she’d swallowed gravel.  “Steve?”

“Hey.” A familiar metal hand cupped her cheek, and James tilted her head up to meet his pale blue eyes. The right side of his face was caked with blood.

Jemma reached for his face, a sharp pain shooting up through her left arm. Looking over, she could see the extensive swelling of her forearm indicating that something was broken. She knew she should be freaking out more, but she found that she seemed distanced from herself at the moment. Jemma turned back to James, who was also assessing her injuries.

“Can you move your fingers?”

She gritted her teeth as she did what he asked. “How’s Steve?”

“Idiot went and got himself knocked unconscious, but he’ll be fine. Steve’s got a hard head.” 

She nodded and went to take a deep breath, her lungs seizing and ribs protesting. Jemma gasped at unexpected pain, finding that taking shallow breath eased it. The fasteners must’ve bruised her… “Is your head alright?”

“Looks worse than it is.” His right hand reached up, gently prodding her scalp. He stopped when reached the bump. “You, on the other hand, might have a concussion.”

“I’d gathered that much.” Jemma muttered. “Skull feels like a bloody football.”

James smiled, eyes still full of concern. “I’ll unbuckle you, alright?”

She nodded, whimpering as he lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing and she cradled her broken arm to her chest. Jemma was content to close her eyes and listen to his heartbeat when she felt his entire body go rigid. Jemma opened her eyes, looking up. “James, what is it?”

He laid her down, propping her behind a mangled piece of metal. “Do you have blood bags?”

Her addled brain nearly missed the question...her head throbbed when she attempted to figure out just why he was asking. “Yeah, with the other medical equipment, but why-?”

He frantically searched the remains of the wreckage, finally reaching the intact medical compartment. James tore off the lid with his left hand, pulling out the miniature freezer that they kept three bags of O Negative in. “They need to think you’re dead.”

“They?” Realization came a moment too late as she found an ICER aimed between her eyes. “James, no!” All the pain vanished as she tried to plead with him, tears streaming down her face as she realized what he intended to do. “Please don’t do this…you can fight them!”

“I’m sorry Jemma.”

Jemma tried and failed to push herself to her feet, her body uncooperative. “Please, no…”

“I can’t let them get their hands on you or Steve.” His startling blue eyes shone with tears. “I’ll come back to you Jemma…I promise.”

A sob racked through her, the pain of her injuries overshadowed by the agony of her heart slowly breaking. “James…please…no…”

“ _Tá grá agam duit_.” Then he pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tá grá agam duit- I love you  
> I apologize about the cliffhanger...the next chapter is currently a work in progress and I'll post it as soon as it's finished. Until next time!


	20. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, readers! I thought I'd post this today as a present of sorts. This is from Daisy's POV, hope you enjoy!

Horror filled Daisy as static flooded through the comms moments after the Quinjet was hit, the buzzing in her head nearly drowning out the sound of Coulson trying to reestablish contact. She needed to focus, to control her emotions. She would be no help to Rogers, Barnes, or Jemma if she didn’t. “Coulson, I’m assembling the Warriors.”

The Director nodded, expression nearly unreadable. “Who’s here?”

“Lincoln and Joey…Elena returned home.”

Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll have Bobbi prep a Quinjet.”

Daisy ran out of the room, ignoring the looks of the other agents as she pounded on Joey’s door first. She was met with a pair of concerned dark eyes, not giving him a moment to ask before she spoke. “They were hit…our Quinjet’s leaving in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be ready.”

She nodded, steeling herself as she hurried to knock on Lincoln’s door next. Daisy found she couldn’t stay stoic when warm electric blue eyes looked down at her. “We’ve lost contact with them…” She swallowed, voice thick. “We’re leaving in ten.”

He wrapped his arms around her for a brief moment and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll get them back alright? Come on, let’s go.”

…………………………………………………………………

No one spoke the entire two-hour flight and Daisy took comfort in Lincoln’s thumb rubbing small circles on her knee. She stared up at Bobbi at the front of the cockpit, her attention solely focused on their surroundings as they went to land about a quarter mile from Jemma’s last known coordinates.

She adjusted the gauntlets on her arms before unbuckling herself, dimly aware of the others doing the same as the ramp was lowered. Their mission was clear and as they stepped into the forest, Daisy’s eyes roamed the tree line. She was almost eager for someone to try and stop them… It wasn’t long before they reached the wreckage.

The Quinjet had torn a path through the surrounding forest, leaving a trail of broken trees and twisted metal behind it. Smoke was thick in the air, curling black against the white sky. The silence seemed so _loud_ as the group approached, weapons and abilities at the ready.

She felt the change in the air’s vibrations as a familiar shield came at her at an alarming speed, the slight forewarning giving her just enough time to duck. She heard the vibranium bounce off a tree and Daisy sent a faint pulse to knock it into the ground before it decapitated anyone. “Steve! It’s Daisy!”

He stepped out from behind the smoking wing, exhaustion evident as he sagged against a nearby tree. His helmet was off, blood and bruises completely covering his face. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Bobbi handed her the shield and Daisy returned it to him. “It’s alright…How are Jemma and James?”

At the sound of his friend’s name, Steve’s expression crumbled.

“Steve?” Daisy cursed her voice as it cracked.

He ran a hand through his hair, jaw clenched as he held back tears…or anger? Steve let out a breath, waving her forward.

Daisy steeled herself as she entered what had been the cargo ramp, her eyes immediately drawn to a slim pale hand lying limp in a pool of blood. _No…_ She held her breath as she looked behind the hunk of mangled metal.

Her friend was propped against the metal, head hanging limp and a broken arm draped across her lap. The steady rise and fall indicated she was still alive, but when she ran her eyes down her body there seemed to be no indication of an injury severe enough to cause that much bleeding. Daisy dipped her fingers in the blood. It was cold…too cold considering how warm Jemma’s skin was. That was when she noticed the empty blood bags and ICER tucked behind Jemma’s body. _ICER?_ Wiping the blood off on her pants, Daisy gently lifted her friend’s head and saw the familiar blue veins around Jemma’s closed eyes. She was starting to get a picture of what happened…

She stood up, marching over to Steve. “Where’s James?”

“I was…I was unconscious. He’d must’ve heard them coming and-” In an act of rage that seemed so unlike the usually composed Captain, he slammed his fist into the Quinjet. He hissed as the metal gave way, slicing into his skin. “He gave himself to them…to protect Jemma and me.”

“That means she was awake when he-?” Daisy looked back where Jemma was laying. This was going to devastate her. Fitz had talked to her after he told Jemma of Will’s death and after that, it was then that Jemma pushed them all away and buried herself in work. She ran a hand down her face, trying not to be angry at Barnes. “How long were you out for?”

“Not more than forty-five minutes.” He flexed his bleeding hand. “I wanted to go after them…to fight, but I didn’t want to leave Jemma… _he_ wouldn’t want me to leave her.”

Bobbi came up to him. “I hate to ask you this, Captain, but did-?”

Steve sighed, eyes staring at some far off point. “All of the intel, minus a few broken vials, is intact.”

Daisy put a hand on his forearm, motioning for Bobbi and Joey to gather the intel. She could see the guilt welling in his eyes… “Going after him right now won’t do anyone any good. You can’t just charge after him…you don’t where they are or-“

“I know, I know…” He ran a hand through his hair.

“Could you get Jemma?...We don’t really have a stretcher.”

“Yeah…yeah, of course.”

Daisy watched as he slung his shield onto his back with a soft click, making his way over to Jemma. He lifted her with such care, as though she were made of glass… Which after had just happened…Daisy didn’t think Jemma would handle this without breaking. The thought made her angry, but it wasn’t at Barnes...for the moment.

She understood Barnes, in a way. He’d been made into a weapon for those who wished to create chaos without his consent, had harmed those he cared for time and time again. While she could never compare his decades of torture and brainwashing to anything she’d experienced, she knew why he’d tried to push Jemma away before.

Despite all that Jemma had been through, there was still a lightness to her…an innocence that he felt he couldn’t touch for fear of corrupting. He didn’t think himself worthy of her love…didn’t think himself worthy of anyone’s concern. He saw himself as an unredeemable soul, a monster that didn’t deserve a shred of happiness…but then he came himself over willingly to them to keep Jemma and Steve from falling into their hands…

“What’re you thinking about?” Lincoln’s voice pulled from her thoughts.

“Just why Barnes left them…I’m worried about her.” She felt gloved fingers intertwine with hers.

“Jemma is strong Daisy.”  A warm hand cupped her cheek, stopping her in her tracks. “And so is Barnes. From what you’ve told me, they’ve both been to hell and back…they’ll make it through this.”

“A person can only endure so much hell Lincoln…I’m worried they’ve reached their limit.”

……………………………………………………………..

Daisy stood in the doorway of the lab, watching as Steve laid Jemma on a hospital bed and Bobbi began to cut off the tactical jacket. She winced in sympathy at the swelling and bruising of Jemma’s left arm, rubbing her own forearm absentmindedly.

Lincoln came to stand next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You staying?”

“Yeah.” Her gaze didn’t leave Jemma. “I can’t leave her right now.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “I understand. See you later?”

Daisy nodded, waiting until Lincoln had gone before coming to stand next to Steve, whose broad shoulders were slumped as though he carried the weight of the world. Considering he was Captain America, it could’ve been likely…

Steve sucked in a breath, body rigid as Bobbi finally removed the jacket.

Daisy followed his eyes, finding the gleaming metal of dog tags resting on Jemma’s chest. She reached out, “Are those-?”

“They’re his.” His voice broke just slightly. “I’m sorry…I- I need to go.”

Daisy was surprised at the speed in which he left them, her heart aching for him as she caught the glaze in his eyes. No doubt he would be destroying more punching bags… That thought, of course, brought her back to the dog tags. She was amazed that Hydra had even kept them. Daisy would’ve thought they’d get rid of anything that reminded the Winter Soldier of his previous life…

She helped Bobbi strip Jemma, both of them quick to patch the shallow bullet graze near her right shoulder and set her arm. The bruising caused by the seatbelt was dark against her pale skin and Daisy was glad to cover Jemma’s bare body with a clean hospital gown.

Bobbi slid a needle into Jemma’s arm. “I’m putting her on a morphine drip…the dendrotoxin should be out of her system shortly and I’d like to have her take two bone regrowth pills when she wakes up. I’m going to start translating some of the files…I’ll assume you’ll stay with her?”

Daisy nodded.

“You know…This isn’t all your fault Daisy.”

“But I had a hand in this…” She motioned to Jemma, still sleeping soundly. Daisy wondered if Jemma ever would after this… “I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known that something was off.”

“We _all_ missed it Daisy…you aren’t the only one.”

“I know, it’s just…” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “What if-?”

“She won’t blame you Daisy, Jemma isn’t like that.”

Daisy could only nod and it seemed to appease Bobbi enough for her to leave. The thing was, though, Jemma had changed during her months spent on that alien planet. There was a hardness to her that there hadn’t been before…a well of anger and grief that she hadn’t thought the previously bubbly and upbeat scientist would be capable of. She wanted to believe that Jemma wouldn’t be angry and want to blame someone, but there was always a small part of her that felt she deserved it…

Daisy jumped when Jemma woke with a startled gasp, wide eyes taking in where she was. Before she could say a word, her friend let out a choked sound and Daisy could practically feel the grief shatter her. Jemma’s body shook as sobs racked through her and as she curled around the dog tags clutched in her white-knuckled hand, Daisy wondered if the physical pain had even registered…

 Jemma began speaking in a lilting tongue, the same phrase over and over again, eyes tightly shut as though to block out everything else.

Daisy had remembered a time when Jemma and Fitz would argue in the same language and not even Bobbi could figure out what they were saying. Afterwards, Jemma had told her of her and Fitz’s years in the Academy and Fitz taught her to speak Scottish Gaelic. The way in which the words were being said hinted at nothing good. She reached out, her hand wrapping around her friend’s…”Jemma?”

Jemma swallowed, repeated the phrase more clearly. “ _Tá grá agam duit_.”

Daisy’s brow furrowed. “Jemma?”

“It was the last thing he said to me before he...shot me. It means…” Jemma tried to pull in a breath, her voice wavering. “It means I love you. He said he loved me and…he left.”

Daisy felt like she’d been sucker punched. “Jemma…”

“Why?” Hazel eyes pleaded with her. “I-I love him too. Did he not know that?” She hadn’t really seemed to grasp what she’d just said for a moment, horrified realization flooding her expression when she finally did. Jemma stared down at the dog tags. “I don’t understand…” She shook her head. “Why do they keep leaving me?”

Daisy blinked back tears of her own as she squeezed herself in the bed, mindful of the IV line as she pulled Jemma into her arms. Her aching heart broke as Jemma clung to her as though she were her only lifeline, her friend virtually drowning in her own sorrow. Daisy allowed herself to feel a moment of anger towards Barnes. How _dare_ he say something like that before he threw himself to the wolves? She found herself echoing Jemma…did he know of her feelings? Daisy answered the question herself a second later…of course he did. Jemma always wore her heart on her sleeve, less so now, but even then she would be easy for him to read. He’d have to be blind not to notice…

Daisy looked up as Fitz barreled into the lab and it said a lot about Jemma’s state of mind when she didn’t even notice her friend enter. Daisy held a finger to her lips as Fitz opened his mouth, who slowed to a walk.

“What happened?” His accent was thick with fear.

“Hydra came to collect Barnes…he shot Jemma with an ICER to keep them from taking her.”

Anger momentarily flared in his eyes and he growled in that same lilting tongue from earlier before he let out a long breath of air. He took note of the IV and the cast. “But she’s alright?”

Daisy ran her fingers through Jemma’s hair, avoiding the bump. “As alright as she can be.”

Fitz nodded, coming to stand on the other side of the bed, his hand gently tracing circles on her shoulder. He said nothing else.

It took nearly an hour for Jemma to cry herself to sleep and when Daisy slipped out of the bed to pull the sheets around her, she was aware of a presence entering the lab. She turned, once again meeting the hollowed gaze of Steve. She ran her gaze down his body, noticing the sweat soaked shirt as well as the bloody and bruised knuckles.

“Is she-?”

“She’s asleep.” Daisy brushed an errant strand of hair away from Jemma’s tear-stained face.

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he sat on Jemma’s other side. He stared intently at the dog tags, his gaze seven decades away. “Injuries?”

“Uh…she has a minor concussion, a couple of bruised ribs, a shallow bullet graze on her right shoulder, and the broken arm.” Daisy wanted to add broken heart to the list, but didn’t think the comment would help matters now.

It took him almost a full thirty seconds he’d realized she’d said something and Daisy was pinned by dark blue eyes stormy with a multitude of emotions, reading her expression and tone. “I’m as much at fault as you are.”

“How?” Daisy found herself asking. “You did everything you could…”

“No,” His voice was steely. “I should’ve been the one to fight the soldiers…I knew he was their primary target and I let him go anyway. He should’ve been the one to fly the Quinjet…”

“Then they might’ve taken you…he knew that.”

He clenched his jaw. “I would’ve been fine.”

Daisy saw that legendary stubbornness in the pursed lips and hard blue eyes. “He made a choice Steve and there’s nothing was can do about it now. What we _can_ do is use the information we’ve gathered to pinpoint Hydra’s next move and get a location on Barnes.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “What’d we got?”

Daisy noted the guilt beneath the calm façade he’d constructed, knowing that there was nothing to say to relieve him of it (or hers) for the time being. “Bobbi’s begun translating the files, but it’ll take time…” She swallowed, “…unless you know Russian or German.” She didn’t want Steve to have to see more of the horror that his friend had been subjected to, knowing that people who had done it to him then were the ones that had him now.

“German yes. Russian no.”

Daisy worried her lip, “That’ll help, but I believe that most of it is written in Cyrillic and while I could scan it into my computer…it’ll take more time. There are a lot of files.”

He ran a hand over his face. “I might have someone who can help.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow. “Might?”

“Can you set up a secure channel in the conference room?”

“Uh…yeah.” She turned to Fitz, who was already motioning for her to go. “Let’s go then.”

………………………………………………………………..

Daisy was quick to get to the conference room and open her laptop. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she opened a secure channel. She stood back, allowing Steve to enter the necessary information. She was honestly a little surprised by how quickly and efficiently he’d entered the complex code and, without looking too intently at the code, Daisy activated the security protocols of the room before establishing the connection. 

Daisy was sure her expression conveyed her shock as the face of Natasha Romanov came on the screen and she was glad she was in the back corner of the room. Her piercing green eyes were unnerving to say the least.

“You better have good reason for using this channel Steve.” Her voice was harder than her eyes, which were reading Steve. It only took her seconds to figure it out. “What happened?”

“Hydra has Bucky.”

She swore in Russian, followed by, “I’ll be there in four hours.” Before the connection ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next time...


	21. Breakdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I am really sorry. I hit a wall and it took me two months to get over it. Here we are, a 3,000 word chapter and I hope that it was worth the ridiculous wait. Enjoy!

“Jemma?”

Jemma stared at the wall of the lab, dog tags clenched tightly in her hand. Her head, left arm and ribs ached with each breath and if it weren’t for pain in her head that throbbed with her pulse, Jemma would’ve thought her heart had stopped beating altogether. She felt carved out and hollow, numbed to the point of paralysis.

“Jemma?”

Not even the pleading note in Fitz’s voice could get her to turn her head. She was dimly aware how she was scaring them all with her lack of response to any of them. After she’d woken from her meltdown, everyone had come in to try and talk to her.

“Jemma… _Ma's e do thoil e._ ”

She flinched at the Gaelic, breath hitching as finally meet his gaze. She couldn’t listen to that language right now…the only phrase being repeated in her mind was the last thing James said as he pulled the trigger. _Tá grá agam duit. Tá grá agam duit_. “Don’t Fitz…p-please don’t. I can’t hear that language-” Her lung seized as she tried to breathe in, tears blurring her vison. “I can’t-”

“Hey, hey…” His hands were gentle on her shoulders. “Jemma just breathe.”

She nodded, pulling in as much air as her lungs would allow and letting it out slowly. Jemma grasped for the memory of _his_ steady heartbeat beneath her palm, trying to remember the warmth and the strength. _“Focus on my heartbeat. Just focus and try to calm down…”_

It took a long minute before she’d calmed herself down, meeting Fitz’s sad stare. Her eyes drifted back to the wall…anything to ignore the sad and pitying looks of everyone that came into the room. Steve’s had to be the worst because the shadow in his eyes reminded her too much of _his_ …

“Simmons…Jemma Simmons?”

The voice was cool…unfamiliar, but for some reason it reminded Jemma of May and May had never looked at her with anything other than a strong and steady gaze. She was stunned, though, when she met the eyes of none other than the Black Widow, Natasha Romanov. “Y-yes?”

“Thought I’d meet the girl everyone’s been talking about.”

Jemma opened her mouth and closed it a few times, but any strength she could’ve gathered disappeared when Steve came in behind her. She knew he was trying to help, but the weight of his presence…his gaze…reminded her so much of James. Jemma found herself looking away, the dog tags clinking between her fingers.

“Steve, I need you to leave.” Her voice hinted at little argument.

“Natasha-”

“ _Now_ Steve.”

Jemma waited until he left to chance a look up.

A small smile curled her lips. “I heard what happened.”

Jemma’s breath hitched.

“I won’t ask you to talk about it…” Her eyes seemed focused on another time. “I know it wouldn’t help matters anyhow.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m going to help get him back Jemma.” She crouched down in front of her, gaze now hardened. The Black Widow was angry…

“How can you promise that?” Jemma couldn’t hold back the bite to her voice, thinking of everyone saying those same words after she told them about Will. She could remember the moment when her hope was shattered by grief. That was an agony she couldn’t… _wouldn’t_ endure a second time. “Can you promise that it’ll be _James_ and not the Soldier?”

“I won’t promise you that, Jemma.” She sighed. “No one can.”

Jemma watched the redhead, appreciating the fact that the woman was being honest with her. No one seemed to want to say anything other than hopeful words and apologies…nothing that would really upset her. Jemma nodded. “Then what _can_ you promise?”

“That those who took him will die.”

Jemma wasn’t thrown by the coldness in her voice, instead returned her own steely look. The dark corner of her thoughts where she stored the anger over those scientists that ripped him apart mind, body, and soul bubbled over. For the first time since he’d been taken, she could _feel_ again…could feel the rage when she responded in kind. “Good.”

Natasha stood with a hand held out, “Let’s go.”

Jemma took it, thankful for the support when she waivered as soon as she stood. “Where?”

“The lab…something tells me you’ll be more productive there.”

………………………………………………………………..

It felt good being back in the lab, even if Jemma could feel everyone’s gazes like they were pinpoint lasers. She ignored them as she tried to open the crate, biting her lip as the movement jostled her broken arm. A familiar hand helped her set it on the table and she looked up, meeting Fitz’s eyes once more. There was no pity there now, only determination. This was what they did in the lab…no talking about feelings, only work.

“What do you need?”

“The EKGs and the EEGs. And could you look at the blueprints of-”

“the chair so you can determine how much electricity was used and what regions of the brain were affected.” Fitz finished, already gathering the needed supplies.

The longer Jemma spent in that lab reading over the scans and listening to Fitz think aloud as the blueprints of the chair were up on the holotable the more angry she became. Her shaking hands gripped the edges of the lab table, anything he’d ever said about his seven decades of hell running through her mind.

_I knew what you were going through.”_

_Why do you always assume I’ll think the worst of you?”_

_“Most people do after reading that.”_

_“Voices overlapping screams, memories bleeding into missions…”_

_“Nothing will ever be normal for me again.”_

Jemma’s vision blurred with tears, her throat tightening. She was trying not to cry, not to scream or make any noise…hoping that Fitz was too embroiled in his work to notice. She closed her eyes, trying to breath without choking out a sob, but all it did was bring those photos to the forefront of her mind. The image of him strapped into that chair came to her in starling detail.

_“What they did to me…all the triggers and protocols…they’re still there.”_

_“All it takes is someone to come along with the right words and I’ll lose what control I do have over myself. I’ll become Soldat again and more innocent people will die.”_

_“A weapon has no other purpose but to harm…”_

Jemma’s eyes snapped open in the same moment that her arm swiped the contents off the table, glass equipment shattering and papers fluttering as she finally let out a frustrated cry. What she was doing wasn’t helping him…wasn’t making her feel useful…it made her feel even more helpless. She screamed again, not really feeling the pain as her broken arm sent more beakers and test tubes crashing to the floor. 

She knew she looked crazy…wild with grief as she shoved Fitz away from her. Jemma ran out of the lab and down the hall, not caring at all the strange looks she was getting…not caring that tears clouded her vision and her broken arm throbbed. She needed to get away from everyone and everything…she needed a moment to just breathe.

Jemma found herself stumbling up the stairs and onto the roof, finally coming to a stop. Staring up at the stars beginning to dot the slowly darkening sky, she pulled in as much air she could let it out in a scream not unlike the ones she’d done as Ward carved into her over and over again…

She let out her anger at the sky, tears streaming down her cheeks as the curses became indistinguishable cries at the unfairness of it all. Jemma had never really believed in fate or destinies at first…life was a series of choices and outcomes and people made either good or bad decisions. Now though… Daisy had no choice in becoming Inhuman, her and Fitz had no choice when they were thrown in the ocean, Bobbi had no choice in being tortured by Ward and James…

Jemma’s screams of anger slowly transformed into ones of sadness. James hadn’t made a single choice in being pulled out of a ravine, being tortured, being experimented on…or anything else that had happened to him when he’d been held by Hydra…

She sank to the ground, the ledge cool against her back as she pulled her legs to her chest and rested her forehead on her knees. Jemma could feel that hollowness filling her again, the anger and pain fading into numbness, and she welcomed it. Jemma didn’t want to feel that gnawing agony again…didn’t want to feel like an icy hand had reached into and squeezed her chest cavity until her lungs and heart were burned black by the cold.

She could feel her breathing slow, her heartrate normalize, and when she opened her eyes, the tears had stopped completely. It felt the same as when she first awoke and Jemma didn’t even look up when the door to the room opened a few minutes later nor when people tried to speak to her. It was when a hand wrapped around her arm to pick her up that she tried to move away. The hand was so warm…

Jemma met the clear blue eyes of one Steve Rogers, she didn’t have the energy to fight him and she let him pick her up in his arms. For a short moment, if she closed her eyes, she could almost make herself believe that James was carrying her. She did just that, barely registering the other voices that were around them.

A couple minutes later, she was laid in her bed and tucked in. Jemma didn’t open her eyes, not taking long for her emotionally and physically exhausted body to fall asleep.

…………………………………………………………

_Jemma opened her eyes to a bang that was soon followed by a silence that immediately set her on edge and she slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, the tile cold on her bare feet. She dressed quickly, pulling on her boots and tying her hair as well as she good. Finding the button without turning on the lights, the door slid open without a sound and she stepped out into the empty and fully lit hallway._

_She wasn’t reassured…there was something wrong._

_Jemma slowly and silently walked to the common room. Everyone else’s rooms were closed and quiet, the observation only making her more nervous as she reached the corner of the common room’s entrance. Shutting her eyes, she took a deep breath and let it out before peeking her head around the corner._

_All the lights were on, but Jemma wished badly that she kept a weapon of some kind in her room. Hell, even an ICER would’ve been more useful than her bare hands. The thought had her grabbing a knife from the block and holding tightly in her right hand with a white-knuckled grip._

_Next, she went to the conference room, the training room, the shooting range, and security headquarters. Looking at the multitude of screens, she could find nothing to indicate that there had been anything that had caused the loud noise. Why was she feeling so-_

_BANG_

_Jemma jumped, a sharp intake of breath the only sound she made, and when she looked at the screens again, her heart shot into her throat. All the cameras in the labs and examination rooms were dark._

_Swallowing thickly, she made her way to the lab, grabbing an ICER from the armory. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears as she approached the door that looked as though it had been pried open by…hands._

_“James?” Even as soft as it was, her voice sounded so loud._

_She squeezed through, avoided the jagged edges, her eyes widening in horror._

_James was being pushed back into the chair and a mouth guard was placed between his teeth and she jumped slightly as thick metal restraints circled around his bicep and forearm and once around his metal arm._

_“James! James!” No matter how hard she tried, Jemma couldn’t move a muscle. It felt like she was being held back and it seemed her cries were falling on deaf ears. “No! James!”_

_The two sides of the circle spun around until they were on either side of his head and began to crackle with electricity before they were pressed to his temples._

_His screams cut her strings and, like a puppet, she crumpled into a sobbing heap on the ground. Jemma couldn’t block them out, regardless of how tightly she clamped her hands over her ears. The agony sliced into her flesh, her bones trembling from the pain. “Please…stop…”_

_Jemma’s broken plea brought silence and she looked up, suddenly finding the barrel of gun pressed to her forehead. The metal was cold, but it was nothing when compared the nothingness of the Soldiers’ eyes. “You don’t have to do this James.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “Please…I love you.”_

_“A weapon has no other purpose but to harm.”_

_The he pulled the trigger._

Jemma woke up the sound of her own screams, the single gunshot echoing in her head, and it wasn’t long before someone had turned on the lights and wrapped her in their own arms. She clung to their warmth, their study heartbeat, and their soothing whispers in a familiar sounding language… Jemma blinked, somewhat coming back to herself as she looked up. “A-Agent Romanov?”

“Natasha.” The woman smiled sadly, combing fingers through her hair. She wrapped her arms around Jemma’s waist and cradled her head against her chest. “You can call me Natasha.”

“I-I’m sorry N-Natasha.” Jemma’s voice broke in a wave of sobs.

Natasha’s arms tightened around her. “I know…I know.”

“I-I wanted t-to do something. I _had_ to d-do something.” Her nails dug into Natasha’s bare arms hard enough to break skin, “I can’t…I can’t do nothing while he’s-” Her lungs burned as she struggled to breath, to speak through it. “He was so scared of them controlling him…he didn’t say anything, but he-” Jemma hiccupped out, “He was… _terrified_.”

“Hey,” Hands firmly turned her face up, “Look at me...I know, alright?”

Jemma shook her head, “You can’t kn-” She caught herself, voice trailing off when she looked at Natasha… _really_ looked at her. Peered into the green eyes filled with broken shadows that she wished she hadn’t seen before in another person…or herself. “You know?”

She pursed her lips. “Unfortunately.”

“Do you…” Jemma swallowed, “do you know what they’ll do to-?”

“I do…I’ve seen it.”

“You’ve _seen_ it?” Jemma pulled back so she could sit up and face her. It may have sounded like a question, but Jemma wasn’t entirely sure she wanted the answer. Did she want to know what they were doing to him in this exact moment while she sat with his dogs tags in her hands?

“He’d gotten away before…it was 1990.” Natasha sighed. “I was in the Red Room. We all called him the American…he was one of our teachers. I could see he was trying to remember something…it was in his eyes and I’d always been the best to read a person.” Her shoulders tensed.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“Anyone tell you you’re a horrible liar?”

“Multiple times.”

Natasha nodded. “He was starting recover his memories and he’d seen something in me…someone he could save. I was a child then…and I’ll admit now, that the thought of leaving that place was unpleasant. I told him that he should run while he still could.” She laughed hollowly. “They knew about it, though. Caught him and dragged him back, forcing me to watch them put his mind through a blender…” She trailed off, growling something in Russian.

Jemma’s battered heart clenched as her nightmare suddenly became a possible reality and she was struggling to keep herself calm, but Natasha read her body immediately. She found her shuddering body curled into the woman’s once more, the steady beat in her ear. She blinked away tears, thinking back on the reports she’d read. James was only useful to them _after_ they’d broken him… “How long can he hold off against that chair?”

“Long enough.”

“They’ve broken him so many times…and it’s taken him so much to pull himself together again.”

Natasha smiled, a small quirk of her lips, and held Jemma’s wet eyes. “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.”

Jemma recognized the quote. “Ernest Hemingway.”

She nodded. “He has more to fight for now than he ever had before. You and Steve are his entire world and he won’t let them hurt you two. He will do anything to save both of you.”

“And if he gets himself killed in the process?”

“Hydra and the Red Room…they turned him into what they believed to be their perfect weapon. They created The Winter Soldier to be an unstoppable machine, but even that didn’t hold up against James Buchanan Barnes. Their pride in their work will be their undoing.”

Jemma wove her fingers through the chain around her neck. She knew that James had come back before, had broken his handlers’ hold on his mind. That quote was on repeat in her head. Regardless of what she or the Black Widow thought, she remembered those reports and knew exactly what those scientists would do to him if his disobedience became a liability. God, she wanted him to fight…but what use was fighting back if it would only get him killed anyways? “They don’t like disobedience.”

“He knows how they work Jemma.”

“I could say the same about them.” Jemma rested her chin on her knees. “They made him.”

“They may have made the Winter Soldier, but James is the unknown variable in their calculations.” She squeezed Jemma’s shoulder. “Without Armin Zola, there is no scientist left that knows the man that he was. Bucky Barnes was Captain America’s right hand man and he didn’t get there because they were friends.”

“One of the best tacticians I knew at the time.” Steve’s voice came from the doorway, eyes filled with something other than sadness: pride. “I may have been the Man with the Plan…but he was the one helping me. Trust Nat Jemma. He knows what he’s doing.”

She looked at them: the Russian assassin who knew him as the Winter Soldier, the Captain who knew him as Bucky, and her, Jemma, the SHIELD scientist who knew him as something in the middle. Between the three of them, Jemma hoped and prayed that they would be enough to find him…before that stubborn man got himself killed.

There was a knock on the door.

It was Daisy, a little uneasy as all eyes landed on her. “Romanov and Rogers…Coulson wants to have a word with you.”


	22. Rundown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! I'm sorry about the wait, but I hope you enjoy!

The tension in Jemma’s room was palpable after Daisy spoke, but she was relieved to see that her friend had come back to herself. She shared a small smile with Jemma, before following Rogers and Romanov to the conference room where Coulson was waiting. She wondered what this talk was going to be about, but the fact that May’s stoic mask seemed more forced than usual told Daisy that the older woman didn’t agree with whatever Coulson was going to say. She gave her former SO a sharp nod before the door slid shut, looking at the two Avengers.

Romanov was tougher to read than May, her face a completely blank slate. Rogers’ jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard, but whether it was out of anger or just sheer stubbornness she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that this conversation wouldn’t be enjoyed by anyone.

“Why are we here?” Rogers asked gruffly.

“It’s about Agent Simmons.”

Daisy stilled. This was about the incident in the lab…she knew it, and by looking at Romanov and Rogers she could tell that their conclusions were the same. She spoke up, “If we’re talking about what happened today then Fitz should be here.”

“He’s working on a project with Agent Mackenzie.”

Daisy blinked, only somewhat startled by the steel in his voice. She pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest, the metal gauntlets catching the light. Romanov didn’t react, but Daisy found Rogers crossing his arms as well. 

“I’m taking her off the search for Barnes.”

Romanov cocked an eyebrow, with Rogers swore under his breath.

“You can’t do that Coulson!” Daisy found her voice rising, the table shaking violently under her hands. She remembered sitting with Jemma as she poured over Barnes’ medical files and blood results with eyes once dimmed by six months on an alien planet rekindled by a drive she hadn’t seen since they’d started searching for Will. She didn’t want to see her friend deflate again. “She needs this!”

“She needs to rest.” Coulson replied in a cold tone. “Her involvement is causing her undue amounts of emotional and physical stress.”

“You’re being unreasonable, Coulson.” Rogers was trying to keep his head. “Jemma Simmons’ knowledge of Hydra’s experiments and procedures is extensive.”

“I’ll have Morse look into it.”

“It’s not that simple Coulson-”

Daisy could see him pushing down the personal reasons and that it killed him not to mention his friend. She closed her eyes for a moment, tuning out the voices as she focused on the vibrations in the air. Daisy felt them shift as Romanov finally spoke.

“I didn’t realize you were such a hypocrite Phil.”

Daisy’s eyes snapped open, sucking in a sharp breath as the Black Widow threw down the gauntlet, so to speak. The woman’s face was blank once more, and Coulson soon followed, his voice and eyes as icy as hers had been.

“Rogers and Johnson, you’re dismissed.”

Both left, and Daisy immediately turned on the audio and visual for the conference room on one of the monitors. She felt Rogers’ presence before he slid into the seat next to her and they both listened to the conversation.

“What are you implying Natasha?” Coulson leaned back in the chair, seemingly unruffled by the cross assassin standing in front of him.

“Rosalind Price.”

Daisy’s head fell into her hands, remembering the day the Coulson had walked through the base with a shirt splattered with blood and how May had gently held her back as he locked himself in his office and proceeded to destroy it. How he dragged every agent into an interrogation room and grilled them about Ward. Just the memory had her chest aching. Even dead, Ward and his betrayal would forever haunt this team.

“That has nothing to do with the current situation.”

“She was killed in front of you was she not?” Romanov asked in way that told Coulson she already knew the answer. Her voice didn’t change as Coulson lunged to his feet and into her face. “Your vendetta against Hydra and Grant Ward lead to the capture of Agents Simmons and Fitz, for which you then led an assault on their stronghold-”

“Don’t lecture me about being compromised. If I remember right, it was Barton who-”

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you.”

“Point being, this affects her work and we can’t have that.”

“That’s a load of bullshit, Coulson. She’s a scientist…a good one, and benching her will only drive her away. I’m guessing Simmons and Johnson are like daughters to you and doing this…”

“She’ll understand-”

“how you kept her from helping find the man she loves when you _know_ she can handle it.”

“That breakdown she had earlier today shows the exact opposite…and it wasn’t the first. That damn file has caused plenty.” Coulson fiddled with his cuff links, clearly trying to calm down.

“Yet she was able to walk into the Alps base without a problem.” Natasha stepped back with an arched eyebrow. “Because when it comes to the mission at hand…Jemma Simmons will do what she needs to do because she is the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent you trained.”

The silence was reaching the point where Daisy was sure Coulson would say no.

“Keep an eye on her.”

Natasha smiled. “Already am.”

Daisy shut down the monitor and leaned back in her chair. “She just changed Coulson’s mind. I didn’t think anyone other than May could do that.”

Steve chuckled. “She can change _anyone’s_ mind.”

……………………………………………………………..

Daisy spent the next two sleepless days working on a known timeline of Barnes’ transition into the Winter Soldier, along with the assassinations that had been tied to him, and his moves throughout Europe, Russia, and the United States.

Even learning of Hydra’s purpose of bringing back the first Inhuman and witnessing the horror of what they’d inflicted on the world, seeing what Barnes had been through…there were no words. There was nothing that could come close to describing how monstrous those scientists and doctors were when they turned a loyal man into a blood-soaked weapon at their disposal.

Disgusted and needing a break, she turned off the screen and for a moment, stared at her reflection in the monitor. At the haunted eyes and heavy shadows beneath, the nearly dried trail of tears on her cheeks.  Daisy let her head fall into her hands and took a few centering breaths, remembering advice to use her anger for something productive…

“You alright?”

Daisy lifted her head slowly, meeting Rogers’ eyes. “No.”

“Have you slept?”

“I can’t…working.” She went to turn the holotable back on.

Grabbing the back of the chair with one hand, he pulled it away from the table and turned it around. His free hand held one of the armrests. “Look, I know you want to help, but working yourself into the ground isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Cause you’ve slept so well?”

“This isn’t about me Daisy, it’s about you.”

“No, it’s about Jemma.” She stood up, thankful that he stepped back and allowed her the space. “I’m going to bring him back to her at any cost. She is my friend and I won’t fail her a second time. I _refuse_ to. If you want to stop me, be my guest.”

“You think I don’t want him back?” Steve sighed, his shoulders sagging. “That last mission in the Alps is replaying in vivid detail over and over again…his hand was only inches from mine when the metal gave way… _inches_.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I know what you’re feeling Daisy, but you need to step back and take a breath. You need sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when I’ve finished thi-”

His hand wrapped firmly around her bicep. “I’ll have Natasha look at it.”

“Let go of me Captain Rogers…before I throw you across the room.” Daisy snapped out.

His expression didn’t falter nor did his hand drop. “No. You need to sleep.”

“I _need_ you to let go.” She tugged at his hold.

“Daisy?”

She spun around at the sound of Jemma’s voice, barely registering when Rogers’ hand dropped her arm. Daisy approached her slowly, “Hey Jemma. Is everything alright?”

“I just wanted to check on you.”

Daisy ran her eyes over Jemma, taking in the seemingly put together outfit of black pants and light blue button-up. What gave Jemma away was the dark bruise-like bags under her eyes that no amount of make-up could conceal. “I’m fine.”

“You haven’t slept at all have you?”

“You don’t need to worry about me Jemma.”

“You need to sleep.”

Daisy couldn’t _really_ be mad at her friend’s mother-hen tendencies. It wasn’t the first time Daisy had been pulled away from a computer bleary-eyed and it wouldn’t be the last... “Jemma, I need to finish this-”

“Daisy…please?”

She sighed, running a hand over her face. “Jemma-”

“Come on.” Jemma motioned to the door, sighing when her friend didn’t move. “For me?”

“ _Okay…"_ Daisy took Jemma’s outstretched hand. “But just for a few hours.”

Jemma returned the smile, a half-hearted attempt. “I guess that’ll work.”

The hallway was empty as they walked back to their rooms, Daisy watching Jemma out of the corner of her eye. She was clutching his dog tags and Daisy wondered if her friend had ever let them go since he’d given himself over. “You alright?”

Jemma shrugged. “I’m fine…just a bit tired is all.”

“You need to rest too.” Daisy gently grabbed her arm, turning her to face her.

“If only it were that easy.” Jemma shifted her weight, adjusting the sling with a small grimace before once again reaching for the chain. She tilted her head back, seemingly to blink back tears as she bit down on her bottom lip. “I couldn’t make it a full night if I tried.”

Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest. “Jemma…”

“It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before Daisy.” She forced a smile. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Daisy nodded, watching Jemma slip into her room with a frown, and continued to her own room. She herself was on autopilot as she changed out of her clothes and slipped into one the shirts that Lincoln had left before opening her laptop. Daisy stared at her reflection on the blank screen for a moment before powering it on.

She hated seeing her friend so drained of the light and curiosity at the world that drove her to become a S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist in the first place. Daisy could remember the first time she met Jemma, how bright-eyed and enthusiastic and _happy_ she was before Ward’s betrayal started the domino effect that no could see coming.

Daisy didn’t look up as the door slid open, already knowing who it was. After all, there was only one person she gave immediate access to.

“Hey.” Lincoln sat behind her, softly kissing the back of her neck. “You finished yet?”

“No, there’s still a few years of missing time-”

“Take a break Daisy.” He rested his chin on her shoulder.

“I can’t, not with knowing what they’re doing to him. What they’ll make him do…”

“Hey…” He gently pulled the laptop out of her grip and set on the desk. Lincoln sat in front of her, taking her hands in his. “I know you just want to help and I know you’ll burn yourself out doing it…It’s one of the things I love about you, but you _have_ to take a moment to breathe.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “We _will_ find him…with this team I know we will, but you need to make sure you’re in the shape to do it.”

Daisy nodded, “I don’t like seeing her like this…it’s like Will all over again.”

“He’s more useful to them alive then dead, though…right?”

“They want the machine more than the man.” She moved with Lincoln until she was curled against his side, her head on his chest. She was reminded of the single moment she’d witnessed between Jemma and Barnes, the both of them looking completely at home in each other’s arms… “I wouldn’t exactly count the Winter Soldier as being _alive_.”

“We’ll get him back Daisy.” He pulled the sheets over them and turned off the lights. “Now go to sleep alright?”

“Can you do the thing?”

“You’ve been awake for forty-eight hours…just close your eyes.”

“Please…it’s calming.”

He sighed, but she could picture his smile in her mind’s eye.

Daisy watched the small lines of electricity spark between his fingers, casting a pale blue light throughout her room. It was soothing to see the current flow across his skin like water, almost hypnotic in a way, and she soon found herself succumbing to her drowsiness.

…………………………………………………………………………

Daisy wasn’t entirely sure what had woken her up at first. Her training with May combined with her sensitivity to any and all vibrations left her a light sleeper. She blinked, trying to get her eyes to focus in the dark room when another soft knock sounded.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Lincoln, and opened the door.

A distraught Jemma stood trembling in front of her, hazel eyes wide and full of tears. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her stomach, as if she were trying to keep herself from crumbling. She bit down on her lip, eyes suddenly unable to hold Daisy’s gaze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Daisy had forgotten that she was only wearing one of Lincoln’s shirts, shaking her head and grabbing Jemma’s shoulder before she ran off. “Hey, no… _no_ Jemma. It’s okay.”

She shook her head. “I should-I should go…”

“Hey you’re alright. Just talk to me.” She held her friend’s gaze.

“C-can we go back to my room?”

 “Let’s go then.” Daisy wrapped her arm around Jemma, letting her friend lean her head on her shoulder and ignoring the cool air on her bare legs. She could feel her slowly begin to relax as they turned the corner…only to run into someone else.

She didn’t think she had the capacity for even being a _little_ happy with everything that was going on, but the look on Steve Rogers’ face when he saw her lack of pants had her smiling. She was relieved to hear the quiet laughter from Jemma.

“God, I’m sorry-”

“It’s fine Rogers. Besides…I’ve been found in far less.” Daisy watched Rogers’ cheeks darken as he kept his eyes firmly on anything _other_ than her bare legs with some amusement. It was cute…

Jemma sighed, shaking her head with a small smile. “ _Daisy_ …”

“Oh _relax_ you two…just tryin’ to get a laugh.” Daisy saw Jemma’s smile widen out of the corner of her vision as the blush slowly left Rogers’ face to be replaced with a fond grin. She remembered seeing him give the same looked to Barnes on occasion. “Speaking of…any chance you’d wanna spar later?”

His eyebrows pulled together for a moment at the slightly self-deprecating comment, but smiled a moment later. “Once you’re dressed, I’d like that.”

Daisy nodded, keeping her excitement to a minimum, but something in his eyes told her she hadn’t hidden it well. “I’ll see you later then Rogers.”

“Looking forward to it, Johnson.” He, honest to God smirked, before walking past them and around the corner.

Jemma looked at her almost as if she’d grown a second head. “You’ve seen him fight, right?”

“I did say it would get a laugh.” Daisy stopped in front of Jemma’s door, remembering why she was out in the hall in the first place. She turned to her friend, who had seemed to realize the same thing. “Do you still want to talk?”

She bit her lip, nodding after a moment. “Yeah.”

Daisy followed Jemma into her room, noticing thee tangled sheets as they both sat at the end of the bed. The silence was expected and Daisy waited patiently for Jemma to speak, knowing that further prodding would cause her to clamp up. She placed her hand lightly on her knee and gently squeezed.

Jemma wrung her hands in her lap, moisture quickly filling her eyes.

Daisy wrapped her arms around her friend, offering strength and support anyway she could. Jemma’s entirely body shook with sobs as she clung to Daisy, feeling the tears drip onto her. She combed her fingers through her hair, murmuring reassurances and apologies that Daisy knew were probably falling on grief deafened ears. She closed her eyes tightly, tasting the salt of her own tears as her friend fell apart.

“He t-told me he remembered th-them…remembered the people he k-killed.” Her hoarse voice could barely be heard with her face pressed into Daisy’s chest. “He hates himself for…for what he did…for who he hurt. James said…” She swallowed thickly, “James said that the world wanted him dead for it and that…he would do everyone a favor and end it himself.”

“Jemma…” Daisy pulled back, trying to grab her friend’s gaze.

“Every time I go to sleep, I see the same things…he either has a gun to my head or his own and no matter what I say or do, it always ends the same. He always pulls the trigger…and he isn’t always the Soldier when he does.”

Daisy found herself unable to speak, not that anything she said could help. If she were to be honest, she had a feeling that her nightmares would take on a similar theme. Her knowledge of that damn timeline wasn’t helping matters.

“I don’t want him to hurt you guys…or himself.”

_What about you?_ was what Daisy wanted to ask, but she knew that she would do the same. She knew that she herself would put everyone else before her own well-being, not caring what would happen to her. Daisy found herself echoing Lincoln. “We’ll figure it out, okay? With this team, I’m sure of that.” She didn’t promise his return or a stable state of mind…she couldn’t.

Jemma nodded before pulling back and climbing to the head of the bed, pulling the sheets up around herself like a cocoon with her free hand.

Daisy got off the bed, helping straighten out the comforter over her friend. She went to leave, not surprised to feel a cool hand around her wrist. Her skin was so pale, more so than usual, and Daisy met her bloodshot eyes with a furrowed brow. “What is it?”

“Stay?” She took a deep breath. “I…I can’t sleep alone…”

“Of course Jemma.” Turned off the light, she slid under the sheets and gathered Jemma in her arms. With images of Barnes no doubt running through her friend’s mind, Daisy hoped that whatever strength she provided was enough to get Jemma (and herself) through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I finally know where this story is going, so the next update shouldn't take so long. Until next time :)


	23. History Repeated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me...updating in a timely manner... Hope you all enjoy!

Jemma didn’t glance up from the translated files when she faintly registered the door to the lab opening, not wanting a distraction. It had been a week that breakdown, a week since Daisy had told her how close she’d been to being kicked off the search for James and how both Steve and Natasha had backed up Daisy’s disapproval… She couldn’t help but be flattered by the fact that the two Avengers would stand up for her… Yet a week of pouring through files had only brought more anger and frustration at that fact that James was still a ghost in the wind, still in the hands of the monsters who’d created him…

“Hey, rock star.”

“Hey Bobbi.” She turned a page, not looking up.

“Want some assistance?” The tall blonde came to stand at her side, blue eyes scanning the multitude of files spread across the entire lab table. She purses her lips at some of the photographs, her body stiffening at the snapshots of torture that James had endured… _was_ enduring.

“I’m good.”

The woman sighed. “Jemma…”

“I don’t need help…I’m fine.”

Bobbi reached out and gently took Jemma’s free hand, which had been trembling. “Your pain meds are wearing off, Jemma. Haven’t you noticed?”

Jemma pursed her lips, silently cursing her attentiveness as she finally met the agent’s concerned gaze. Her ribs and arm ached with each breath and the stitches in her shoulder itched at the reminder. “Of course I’ve noticed.”

“Then take a break…get some food and ibuprofen into you.” Bobbi looked over the scattered files with a sigh, already realizing that Jemma couldn’t (or wouldn’t) do that. “Look, if I bring you a snack and some pain meds will you promise me to take it?”

“Can you bring me some Chamomile tea too? Hunter knows how I like it…”

The blonde smile fondly. “I think I can do that.”

Jemma let out a breath when the door slid shut, body protesting as she went to stand up. She gripped the counter’s edge as the world swayed and Jemma shut her eyes against the nausea. The scientist and doctor in her recognized the symptoms of sleep deprivation, but the hole in her chest told that that didn’t matter…that she could sleep soundly once James was back…

She shook it off. She needed to keep looking…had to. There was something in her that would tell which base he was at. After all, the equipment needed to…keep the Winter Soldier was unique and expensive to keep up to date.

Her eyes drifted to the blueprints of the Chair, fingers following the broken arch and electrified plates on each side down to the thick metal restraints on each arm. She had remembered it being odd when she first noticed that there were two on his flesh and blood arm versus only the one on the metal arm. Realistically, the arm, made of a titanium alloy, was stronger than even his serum-enhanced body and should’ve easily pulled apart the restraints. That was until she noticed the heavy magnets embedded within the restraints. He couldn’t have moved that arm even if he’d tried…

Perhaps the only light in all of this was that the parts and components used in the chair and the unique metal composition used in the arm had identified half a dozen bases scattered throughout Europe and another four in America and Canada that could keep the Winter Soldier. Jemma (naively) wanted those to be the only ones, but she knew that in the seventy odd years of operation, the Winter Soldier had completed missions around the globe. Jemma had found it almost ironic that the UK had remained untouched by the bloody mark of Hydra and its Soldier.

The thought itself immediately brought up memories of her home in Sheffield: Jemma visiting Weston Park with her parents as a child, the sight of the emerald hills of Peak District National Park through the mist, the smell of an oncoming storm, the warmth of the small fireplace in her childhood home, the taste of her mum’s tea, the feel of her dad’s old leather-bound tomes heavy in her lap…

She hadn’t realized how much she missed home, how she missed the feeling of her parents’ hugs and encouraging words. Sure, the people here at S.H.I.E.L.D. were unlike any she’d come to know. Daisy and Fitz had become the siblings she’d never had growing up and she couldn’t imagine having never met. But the stale air of the base was nothing like the cold humidity of home… When everything was over (and she _had_ to believe this would end…) that she could finally see it all again.

Those thoughts fled as the lab door slid open and the pain of an invisible knife cut deep into her chest at the sight of Daisy’s unfiltered expression, leaving her breathless. Her friend, her sister in everything but blood, was looking at her as if someone had just died…

Jemma felt as though she’d been doused in liquid nitrogen, her entire body becoming as fragile as cracked glass and her mind was frozen on the contradicting image of empty grey eyes and a gun pressed to her head with one of broken blue eyes with a gun to his temple… She found herself holding the edge of the table as though it would keep her from completely going over the edge. “What happened?”

“The London office was attacked.”

Jemma wet her lips, “It was him wasn’t it?”

Daisy nodded.

Jemma’s eyes slipped closed, trying to understand how the universe could prove her wrong time and time again. She pulled a shuddering breath, lungs burning and ribs throbbing as she did. London was only a three and a half hour drive from home. 168 miles. 270 kilometers.

“Jemma…”

“What’s today’s date?”

“September 9th.”

Jemma could remember a particular conversation with her mother and how excited she was for her and Dad to see the Last Night of Proms, the finale of an eight week music festival where her parents had first met thirty years prior. It was a tradition for them and they never broke it… “My parents, they’re- they’re _there_ in London.”

Daisy, seeing the beginnings of a panic attack, was quick to grab Jemma’s shoulders. “Jemma, breathe! Fitz called them as soon as he found out. They were leaving the hotel when he called… They’re okay Jemma...they're _okay_.”

Jemma choked back a cry of relief. “Thank you.”

“They said they’re staying another day, though, something about them knowing you coming…” She saw Jemma open her mouth, “We _told_ them that it wouldn’t be safe if they stayed, but you mom was pretty stubborn.”

“No, I know…” Jemma smiled fondly, “Dad says I get it from her.”

Daisy returned the grin. “I believe that.”

Jemma ran her free hand through her hair, “That means I’m going right? To-”

“See your parents.” Daisy cut in sharply. “You don’t need to see that Jemma. I don’t care if you say you’ll be fine or you can handle it, but-”

“I won’t handle it Daisy…I can’t. But I need to see it. I need to see what Ja- the Soldier did.” Jemma blinked quickly, trying to hold back the tears. “I know you just want to protect me from that, but…I’ve been staring at those bloody files for a week and I’ve seen enough horror to last me the rest of my life. I know what they’ve made him capable of…I’m not blind to that. Just… _please_.”

Daisy’s expression softened in sadness after a long moment. “I’ll let Rogers know.”

………………………………………………………….

No one said anything to her on the flight, but Steve’s gentle hand on her knee said more than any words could. He knew exactly what she felt like, probably even more than she did. She couldn’t compare her relationship with James to the decades-long bond of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes…she doubted anything could.

Natasha had sat across from them, eyes staring at the ground in front of her. She was absently adjusting the Widow’s Bites on her wrist, lips moving silently.

Jemma remembered the story that Natasha had told, the thought of the formidable assassin in front of her hard to imagine as a child. She laid her head back, picturing the pale eyes of the Soldier looking down at a little red-haired girl with green eyes…one that he would train be as deadly as him. The image chilled her for many reasons, but she could see a flicker of light out of the Black Widow’s history with the Winter Soldier: he’d been coming back to himself, albeit slowly, trying to remember. He’d been fighting their conditioning for decades…

“We’re here.”

No one spoke as they readied themselves to go in and Jemma felt everyone’s eyes on her as they all exited the Quinjet. She was surprisingly calm and steady-handed as she walked up the driveway of a common brick home, noting nothing out of ordinary besides an ajar front door. She reached it first, her hand going to push the door open…

Daisy’s hand wrapped firmly around her wrist, “Let Romanov and Rogers go first.”

Jemma, not wanting to waste time, stood back and watched the two Avengers pass. She found her hand gravitating to the dog tags, something that was fast becoming a nervous tick. Her thumb ran over the grooves of his name and service number, the sequence permanently engraved in her brain. _Barnes, James B. 32557038… Barnes, James B. 32557038…_

Unsure of how many minutes had passed before the home was cleared, Jemma stepped over the threshold and into an eerie, uncomfortable silence. The hallway itself seemed fine: no broken glass, no bullets in the walls, and no marks on the tile floor… It wasn’t until she turned into what would’ve been the lounge that her heart became lodged in her throat.

Jemma stood at the entrance for a long moment, ignoring the horrified gasps and muttered cursed in at least four different languages. She was seeing the bloody horror of the Soldier’s past missions spilling into the present. Jemma found herself walking forward and let that clinical detachment surface, pushing her emotions away for the time being. She wouldn’t be able to get through this otherwise…

There were at least seven bodies that she could see, three with broken necks, one with a bullet to the head, two with their throats cut and the other slumped beneath a cracked wall with no visible causes of death. Jemma crouched in front the body the agent, a young blonde woman no older than herself.

She ran her fingers over the scalp, feeling no contusions or fractures to the skull. Jemma continued the path down the woman’s neck and shoulders, eyes catching the medal sitting between her collarbones. She rubbed away the spots of blood on the medallion, revealing the sword wielding Archangel Michael. For a split second, the memory of her God fearing grandmother came to the forefront of her mind. “Saint Michael, the Archangel, Defend us in the hour of battle, keep us safe from the wickedness and snares of the Devil…”

“May God restrain him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, By the power of God, cast Satan down into Hell, and with him all the evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls. Amen.”

Jemma, startled, looked up to see Steve with haunted blue eyes. She’d forgotten for a moment that his mother was an Irish immigrant and she knew from her own history classes that most of those who immigrated to America in the early 1900s were predominantly Catholic. That, and Saint Michael was the patron saint of soldiers. _How many times had he heard it?_ Shaking her head, she forced herself to return her gaze to the body, going to remove the hastily put on Kevlar vest.

Steve helped her without a words, fingers deftly undoing the Velcro and pulling it gently off the woman. In doing so, Jemma was finally able to ascertain cause of death.

The forth through seventh ribs on either side of the sternum were caved in, the broken rib cage perforating both lungs and the sternum fatally damaging the heart. The edge of the ribs had pierced through the white shirt as well as her skin from the high amount of pressure applied. The bruising pattern showed that of US size 11 standard combat boot. _He’d kicked in her chest…_

Her detachment crumbled, emotions flooding her, and Jemma stood up too quickly, stumbling back from the body with a small choked off sound. Steve was behind her, keeping her from collapsing as fast as she’d stood. She let him guide her out of the lounge and onto the front porch where he then pulled her into a warm embrace.  Jemma sank into him, his warmth chasing away the numbness that was threatening to consume her, and let herself cry as the slim hope of him fighting against his captors died. She whispered against his chest, knowing he could hear her. “The Soldier’s in control now…isn’t he?”

Steve stiffened, his voice just as resigned. “Yes.”

They stood there for what had seemed a lot longer than a couple minutes before Natasha called Steve’s name and he slowly pulled back, hands curled around her shoulders and eyebrow furrowed in concern. “You going to be okay out here?”

Jemma nodded, going to sit on one of the steps. She looked down at her cast-free hand, the smears of blood from the female agent dark against her pale skin. With tears burning her eyes, she viciously rubbed it off on her black pants before tearing her fingers through her hair. That night on the roof came back to Jemma unbidden, his words as clear as if he were sitting right next to her.

_“What they did to me…all the triggers and protocols…they’re still there. I know they are. All it takes is someone to come along with the right words and I’ll lose what control I do have over myself. I’ll become Soldat again and more innocent people will die.”_

“I’m sorry…” She whispered, staring at her feet. “I’m sorry...”

_“I can’t let them get their hands on you or Steve…I’ll come back to you Jemma…I promise.”_

“This is all my fault.” Jemma shook her head, trying to shake his words. She wasn’t sure which was worse, his voice or silence caused by his actions. Instead, she focused on the things about him that _didn’t_ make her want to curl into the smallest ball possible. His smiles and rare laughter, the teasing light in his eyes, the coy curl to his mouth, the taste of his kisses…

“Jemma?”

She looked up as Daisy sat down beside her, whose lips were pressed into a thin line. Jemma could feel the air around them change, the small amount of happiness the images pulled up evaporating instantly. She rubbed the cast, worrying her bottom lip, before pinching the bridge of her nose. “How many more were there?”

Daisy swallowed. “Five…throats cut.”

Jemma pulled in a ragged breath, trying to hold back the tears. Twelve agents…twelve people were dead. Twelve families devastated by the loss of a loved one killed in action by an enemy few had ever seen or caught. She couldn’t stifle the sob, “Why did he let them take him? _Why?_ ”

Daisy scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Even though he did hand himself over…he wouldn’t give them what they wanted Jemma…not without a fight. I watched some of the video clips I salvaged from the base’s data…and I have no doubt Barnes put a few of them in the ground as well.”

“Twelve people are dead Daisy…I don’t exactly call that fighting it.”

“It’d be hard for him to go against any trigger words.”

She nodded. Trigger words would completely negate the need for repeated sessions of torture or the Chair…his free will would be gone and he’d be their puppet again without any rebellion whatsoever. “I haven’t found any of those in the files, though. How would they have them?”

“Words that could control the Winter Soldier wouldn’t be kept on a computer…and from what Romanov could remember, most of them are in Russian…meaning that the words were implanted after he was given to the Red Room. Finding anything from that time is extremely difficult.”

“I hate this Daisy!” She stood quickly, forgetting just how tired her body was, and swayed on her feet. Jemma forced it down, turning to face her friend. “I hate feeling so _bloody_ useless! I hate how, no matter how this ends, they’ll blame _him_. He’ll be Hydra’s scapegoat for every horrible thing they’ve done because it’ll be easier than trying figure out the hand behind the _Soldat_.”

Daisy caught her arm as Jemma stumbled. “Hey shh, shh…I know. Just…try to take a breath Jemma. I can’t possibly understand what you’re going through, but Jemma-Jemma look at me.” She took Jemma’s face in her hands. “Let’s just work on getting Barnes back before we worry about the rest.”

“What about…their families?”

“Phil and Steve are going to talk to them after this.”

“Okay.”

“And _I’m_ are going to take you to see your parents…alright?”

Jemma blinked, shame and guilt flooding her. She’d completely forgotten the fact that her parents were still in London. “You don’t have to-”

“But I’m going to.” Daisy smiled. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Don’t you have to-?” Jemma motioned back at the house.

“Nope, everything else is being taken care of.” Daisy stood up, holding out a hand. “Fitz is getting a car ready for us.”

Jemma took it, black spots clouding the edges of her vision, and swayed as the ground tilted beneath her. She couldn’t remember _exactly_ how much sleep she’d gotten in the last week…but she knew it had barely reached double digits.

Daisy held her up, concern clear. “And you _need_ to get some sleep while you’re there. I brought a small overnight bag for you.”

Jemma didn’t bother arguing as Daisy helped her into the car. Her eyes slipped shut as soon as she’d buckled herself her in, head propped up against the cool glass of the window. With his dog tags clutched tightly in her free hand, Jemma fell asleep instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: I myself I've never been to London, or even left the US, so any place I've mentioned so far was found through research. 
> 
> I'm currently working on the next chapter...until next time :)
> 
> WARNING: Beginnings of a panic attack occur in this chapter.


	24. Glimpse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you guys go! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> WARNING: A panic attack occurs in this chapter. (poor Jemma...)

Jemma knew it hadn’t been more than half an hour before a gentle and familiar hand was shaking her awake. She blinked, rubbing the bleariness from her vision with the back of her hand, meeting Daisy’s dark eyes. Her voice was thick and gravelly. “Are we ‘ere?”

“Yeah.” She smiled, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Come on.”

She only stumbled a little as she stepped out of the car, eye widening when she took in the beautiful building of The Milestone Hotel. The red brick stood out against the grey sky and she took in the gilded window frames and wrought iron balcony on the second floor. “This isn’t the-“

“S.H.I.E.L.D. had them moved to a location they’d already had secured.” Daisy cut off her question as they walked into the lobby. “Your parents are on the second floor.”

Jemma let herself be led up the staircase, hand tightly holding the bannister. An anxious feeling was settling in her stomach at the thought of seeing her parents again, as well as a sliver of guilt for not really talking to them in the last month. She could tell herself that it was because things had been so chaotic during that time…still were, but she should’ve at least tried…

“Jemma?”

A nudge on her shoulder pulled her out of her thoughts and Jemma found herself standing in front of what had to be her parents’ door. Daisy motioned with her head, saying _go on already!_ Jemma felt a little ridiculous as she took a deep breath and went to straighten her shoulders…as if she could fool her parents (her mother in particular) that she was okay. She turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

Her parents had engulfed her in an embrace before she could say anything, not caring how her bruised ribs protested. She breathed in her mother’s perfume and the lingering scent of dusty old books that she’d always associated with her father. If she were being honest, Jemma wasn’t sure she’d felt this much as home since James…

That train of thought brought her up short, the little strength she’d pulled together crumbling like eroded stone. Images of the dead agents ran through her mind, the bloody silver medal of Saint Michael amidst the Soldier’s carnage seeming like such a cruel joke. Jemma’s body shook with sobs, soaking her father’s shirt with tears as they sat her down at the end of their bed.

“Oh Jemma…” Her mum carded her fingers through her hair.

She told them, somehow, about the month since she’d last talked to them. Jemma censored most of the horrors done to James and the acts he committed with their orders, only saying that he wasn’t in control of any of his actions. The voice she spoke with was unfamiliar…deadened to the sadness that continued to produce tears. When she concluded with the reason they were in London, Jemma felt completely drained.

“Where is James now?” Her father asked.

Thankfully, Daisy spoke. “This is the first we’ve had even a glimpse of him in two weeks. Knowing those who have him, he’s long gone by now. We came to confirm that it was him and to…” She swallowed, “…notify the families.”

“How long will you be staying in London?”

“Twelve hours…” Daisy glanced at Jemma with a small, sad smile. “Figured we’d give Jemma time to spend with her parents.”

“Thank you Daisy.” Her mum stood up, wrapped Daisy in what Jemma knew was bone-crushing hug from such a petite woman. “Thank you so much.”

Daisy, slightly surprised, returned the embrace, before coming to crouch in from of Jemma. She gently squeezed her knees, “We’ll come get you at…” She pulled up her sleeve. “9:00 tomorrow morning. Will that be okay?”

Jemma nodded.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

The door shut with a soft _click_ , a few moments of silence passing before her mum spoke.

“Let’s get you into something more comfortable, alight?” 

Jemma nodded, tiredly slipping out of her S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform as soon as she entered the bathroom and unzipping the bag. After brushing her teeth, she reached inside for her usual tank top and sleeping pants. Jemma looked at the folded black top, this wasn’t hers… Putting her pants on, she unfolded it and Jemma just knew it was James’. She brought the shirt to her nose, catching faint whiffs of metal and his cologne. “Thank you Daisy.” She whispered quietly as she pulled the shirt over her head.

The hem fell to the middle of her thighs, her hands running lightly over the soft fabric. She smiled to herself, running her right hand through her hair before exiting the bathroom and slipped into the bed. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

………………………………………………………………………

_Jemma awoke to dark, quiet hotel room and she inched out of bed. The silence in the air was unsettling and it reminded her eerily of the London base. She looked over at her parents’ bed, making sure not to wake them. She looked through the peephole, and noted with horror that there were two armed men walking down the hallway._

_Jemma ran to their bed, not caring if the men heard. She had to get Mum and Dad hidden somewhere in the room…anywhere… She reached out to shake her parents awake, “Mum! Dad! Come on, you need to wake up!”_

_They didn’t._

_“Mum! Dad!” Her voice rose._

_Neither moved._

_She moved forward slowly, dread settling in her stomach as she walked around to the other side. Jemma screamed, nearly falling backwards as she saw the identical clean cuts across their throats. “Mum…” Tears ran down her cheeks as she made a half-aborted movement to go over to them. “Daddy…”_

_The familiar sound of metal plates shifting had her freezing._ No… _She turned around, finally noticing the shadow moving in the dark corner of the room. The pale light from the street lamps glinted off his arm. Jemma scrambled back as he lunged, having no time to avoid the booted strike to her chest. The sound of her ribcage cracking apart was loud her ears, white hot pain engulfing her…_

Jemma woke up gasping for air, lungs straining against her bruised ribs for a breath that couldn’t seem to come. Her chest burned like she was drowning, nothing but her racing heartbeat in her ears. She reached out for something…anything, the tears blurring her vision to the point where everything in the dark room was the same shade of black.

She was trying to remember his voice, his calm heartbeat… but all that did was bring up the nightmare...the warped shadow with a bloody knife. Jemma choked, wheezed…trying to pull in any air she could, but it felt like her throat was closing. A cold weight had settled on her sternum and she couldn’t shake it. She needed to breathe… Why couldn’t she breathe?

“Jemma?” Familiar voices overlapped each, the light coming on. “Jemma!”

She couldn’t barely feel their comforting hands, their words sounding as though she were underwater. Jemma felt arms slid around her, pulling her shaking body to their chest. The loud steady beating cut through the fog in her brain, and she could slowly recognize the worried voice of her father and her mother’s fingers running gently her scalp and pressed kisses to her temple.

“Shhh…we’re here.” Mum rocked her back and forth, “We’re here, my sweet girl.”

“I’m s-s-sorry I woke you.” Jemma choked out. “I’m sorry.”

“Goodness no.” Mum cupped her daughter’s face in her hands, brushing away the tears with a small sad smile. “You have nothing to apologize for. _Nothing_.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Alright?”

Jemma nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her father’s voice was gentle, hand warm on her back.

Jemma swallowed, tears coming anew. “He…k-k-killed you both.”

They said nothing, only wrapping her in their arms until her shaking sobs subsided. Jemma had never been so grateful for her parents’ presence. She felt like she was suffocating…drowning in nightmares and panic attacks and they were like a breath of fresh air away from S.H.I.E.L.D.…if only for a moment.

“Would you like some tea?” Her mum asked as she brushed away the last of her tears. “Or we can have some food brought up?”

Jemma nodded, not wanting to worry her parents by turning down food. “Both sounds good.”

Dad went to call the lobby.         

Jemma finally decided to get out of bed, stretching as much as her aching body would allow. She looked out the window of their room, seeing the beginnings of a sunrise. She was a little surprised to see that she’d slept so long. “What time is it      ?”

“Half past seven in the morning.”

Opening her overnight bag, she dumped two ibuprofen and two bone growth pills into her hand and went to get a glass of water from the bathroom. Swallowing the pills two at a time, she caught her reflection in the mirror. _No wonder her parents were worried…_

She was probably two shades paler than normal, making the shadows under her eyes look like dark bruises. Bloodshot eyes and limp hair completed the look Jemma would best describe as death warmed up. It almost felt that way inside as well…

Tearing her own gaze away, she looked down at the cast. With the help of the bone growth pills, the break would be completely healed in two to three days. She couldn’t wait to get the cast off…the damn thing really limited what she could do with her hands. Like wash her hair…

Jemma ran her fingers through her hair following that thought, grimacing at the oily feeling.

“Would you like some help with that?” Her mum asked, leaning against the door frame.

Jemma wanted to say no, that she could do it by herself, that she wasn’t a child anymore, but she found herself wanting to be taken care of. She’d practically buried herself in those damn files and pushed everyone away, even Fitz. Daisy seemed the only one who was willing to deal with her at this point and now with images of the nightmare lingering, Jemma nodded. “Yeah, thanks Mum.”

Jemma stuck her head under the faucet until her hair was completely soaked, handing the bottles of shampoo and conditioner that Daisy had packed to Mum. She closed her eyes at the nostalgic feeling of her mother’s fingers softly combing through her hair and over rubbing her scalp, the lavender scented soap running down the drain a small familiar comfort. Daisy had packed her rarely used products from home. She would definitely have to thank her later…

Thanking her mother, she waved her out of the bathroom as she changed out of her pajamas and folded them next the sink, catching a glimpse of her bare body in the mirror. The bruises themselves were yellowed (they would probably be gone in a few days as well) and her ribs seemed more pronounced than they should. The others force-feeding her had only done so much…

She shook those thoughts out of her mind for the time being, she pulled a cap over her freshly washed hair and specially made water-proof glove for her cast before stepping into the shower and making the water as hot as possible. The shower was short, Jemma only staying in there until the water had washed away the grime it’d collected since the last time she showered.

Changing into the dark blue button down and black trousers that had been packed, she towel dried her hair as best she could before stuffing all her things back into her bag. Bringing the black t-shirt to her nose one more time, she set it on top before zipping the bag shut and stepping out into the room where her parents were waiting with tea and breakfast.

She picked at the plate of fried eggs and toast, only managing a few bites. Her knotted up stomach protested even that. Instead, she drank two mugs of Breakfast tea and stared out the window of the hotel room.

The sky was its usual dismal grey, the rain creating a misty veil over the surrounding buildings. She watched drops of moisture slowly travel down window and Jemma rested her cheek against the cool pane of glass. She closed her eyes, fingers tightening around the mug. An ache that had become constant flared in her chest. _James…where are you?_

“Thinking about him?”

Jemma stiffened only slightly at her father’s sudden presence, nodding to the question. He had always been a man of few words and she couldn’t be happier with that fact as sat next to her with his own cup tea without any more words.

They both sat in silence for a couple of long minutes, the rain outside intensifying. The sky darkened as well, the color reminding her so vividly of the eyes of James as he internally warred with the Soldier. The image had her wondering if they any blue left in them now… She closed her eyes, trying to conjure deep blue ones instead of a lifeless grey. Jemma was suddenly afraid when she realized it was becoming harder to picture the man she loved. The thought brought tears to her eyes, and she leaned into her father’s side. “I can’t lose him.”

“He’s gone through this before.”

It wasn’t a question, Jemma realized. She recognized her father’s tone as a statement of fact…something he ascertained from his library of books and journals, something he _knew_. She figured out, though, what he meant by it. James _had_ gone through this before he’d met her. He’d broken through the conditioning of his handlers and that was after nearly seventy years. He didn’t lose himself then and he wouldn’t lose himself now. “Thank you Dad.”

“Anytime, my gem.” He squeezed her hand with a smile.

“Jemma, your friend’s here.” Her mum spoke up.

Both he and Jemma turned to see Daisy leaning against the doorframe, who smiles. “Someone’s looking better.”

“Thank you for letting her stay.” Her mother said, smiling kindly at Daisy. “It’s been nice to see her.”

Jemma was grateful neither of them mentioned the nightmare (who it had been about) and panic attack it induced. She hugged and kissed her parents goodbye before shouldering the overnight bag and following Daisy out. She took the umbrella that Jemma had just noticed Daisy was holding and opened it as soon as they stepped onto the sidewalk.

The silence between them was comfortable as turned the corner, walking to the car.

Jemma suddenly stopped as she felt eyes on the back of her head, the pin point laser intensity so achingly familiar. Ignoring the rain now soaking through her clothes, she glanced around the relatively crowded street. Some part of her wanted to catch even a _glimpse_ of him while the other part screamed to get as far away from him as possible before she and Daisy were pulled into his handler’s crosshairs. Jemma ached to call out to him, but knew, even in her heart, that that would only paint a target on her back and that James would rather die than see that happen. With an effort that nearly tore her heart in two, she turned away and walked up to Daisy. She could still feel his eyes on her…

“Why’re you standing in the rain?”

She blinked, hoping the rain would mask her tears. “I’ve just…forgotten how much I’ve missed coming here.” Jemma lifted her face to the rain for a moment, a small genuine smile on her lips. “How much I’ve missed the rain…”

Daisy arched an eyebrow, “You are a strange one, Jemma Simmons.”

Jemma laughed, her chest feeling just a little lighter. “I’ve been told that.”

“Come on, I think there’s some towels in the car.”

Daisy pulled her back under the umbrella and Jemma fought the urge to look behind her the entire walk to the car. And sure enough, there were towels folded neatly in the back seat. Jemma dried her hair as much as she could, pondering aloud. “I guess I didn’t need that shower then…”

Daisy just shook her head, chuckling. “You were the one who stood in the rain.”

“You also told me I was an odd one.”

“Strange.” Daisy said as she shifted the car into drive and pulled out onto the road. “I said you were a strange one.”  

Jemma watched Daisy drive the vehicle with ease, not faltering even once. She would admit to a few mistakes whenever she first drove in the States. “Your driving is very good.”

“May and Romanov gave me a crash course lesson.”

Jemma opened her mouth.

“I didn’t _crash_ for God’s sake.” She mocked pouted. “You doubt me Jemma?”

“Never.” Jemma’s reply was deadly serious, dimming the light mood. The car was silent until they reached a red light. “Where’re we going now?”

“May’s got a Quinjet at the Heathrow Airport.”

“What do we do now?”

Daisy was silent for a long moment, finally sighing. “I don’t know.”

Jemma nodded. She’d been expecting that though. They’d found no reason why the Winter Soldier had been sent to take out this specific base, other than her. There was nothing to indicate that her parents had been followed or were being tracked in any way, but Jemma still felt off. The feeling of his gaze on her…she had to tell Daisy. London was a city of over eight million people and trying to find an almost literal ghost in that crowd was more like a needle in a pile of needles…that and she worried if she waited any longer to tell her, that James would disappear without a trace. “Daisy…”

Her friend’s lips turned down, sensing the foreboding note in Jemma’s voice. Dark eyes read her as they away from the road for only a moment, mouth open to ask when a sudden jolt sent the car veering and swerving uncontrollably. Clipping a lamppost, the car rolled at least three times before coming to a stop upside down.

Jemma groaned, her vision partially obstructed by the blood from a fresh head wound. She reached out to Daisy, relieved to feel a hand reach for her as well. Her voice was soft. “Are you alright?”

Daisy whispered back. “A little bruised, but I’m good. You?”

“I’ll probably need stitches for this head wound, but no new injuries.” Jemma was relieved to find that her healing broken arm hadn’t re-fractured. She was about to ask Daisy what had happened when the noise of glass crunching under heavy boots had them both freezing.

Daisy clenched her fists, the vibrations in the air changing rapidly as she did.

Jemma looked out her broken window, seeing the combat boots walk slowly toward them. There weren’t words to describe the feeling that washed over Jemma as she heard the sound of metal plates realigning and shifting before a chromed hand tore the door off its hinges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger, but I'm current;y working on the next chapter. Until next time... :)


	25. Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I have busy weekend ahead of me, I've decided to give you this ahead of time. Enjoy!

Jemma saw Daisy’s eyes widen in fear as the door skidded across the road, the seatbelt tearing as she was roughly pulled from the car and onto the glass covered asphalt. She cringed as it stuck in her skin, not making a sound as a cold hand grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to her feet. Looking up, Jemma froze as she met the unnerving and unflinching gaze of the Winter Soldier.

Pictures and nightmares had nothing on reality.

She’d seen the eyes of the dead, had closed more glassy and unseeing ones than she’d ever care to admit, yet Jemma knew that ‘dead’ would carry a whole new horrible meaning. There was nothing in the gaze that looked at her now…no protective fire…no mischievous gleam…not even a sliver of the chaotic tangle of sadness and anger and guilt. The beautiful soul she’d fell in love with wasn’t there…

“Jemma!” Daisy’s voice sounded like it so far away. “Let go of her!”

His head turned sharply towards the noise, hand reaching for the gun strapped to his thigh.

_That_ finally snapped Jemma out of her daze. She strained against the hold, “Go Daisy! Go get help!” Jemma nearly stumbled, crying out as the hold on her arm increased, a silent warning to stop moving or her arm would be broken.

Daisy shook her head, dark eyes focusing on the Soldier as she got to her feet with her hands outstretched. She _smirked_ at him, then lunged.

Jemma found herself thrown into the side of an abandoned car not five feet away, the pain stunning her as she hit the ground and rolled over with a groan. Her palms stung as she pulled herself up using the side view mirror, leaving bloody handprints on the white paint. She finally looked up as Daisy hit the Soldier with enough force to sending him crashing _through_ a parked car and into a brick wall.

She wasn’t surprised to see him get up like it was nothing, glass glittering in his dark hair as he advanced towards Daisy with a gun raised. Jemma’s heart lodged further into her throat as Daisy rolled away from each shot, sending a strong pulse at the weapon and knocking it out of his hand.

He wasn’t dissuaded, pulling an identical gun up and continuing to shoot.

Daisy rolled over the hood of a car, taking cover from the onslaught of bullets. She only gave herself a moment to breath before pushing the car at him, the shooting stopping as he rolled to avoid it. Daisy took those precious seconds and stood up from her crouch, sending him flying once again.

Jemma could help but cringe as he bent the lamppost, metal on metal indicting his arm had taken the brunt of the impact. She watched him take the gun strapped between his shoulders and aim at Daisy.

Daisy faltered as a bullet hit her arm, but didn’t stop. She sent a pulse at his feet, knocking him off balance for only a second, long enough for her to kick the gun out of his hands. The action brought her within arms’ reach, metal hand wrapping tightly around her throat and pinning her to the asphalt. She squirmed, one hand weakly grasping at the metal.

Not wanting to draw the Soldier’s attention, Jemma looked around frantically.

His discarded gun lay ten feet away, next to the bent lamppost.

Jemma hoped the screaming and commotion of fleeing pedestrians would cover her stumbling over debris. He hadn’t seemed to notice yet, but Jemma knew that that wouldn’t last long. The glass crunched lightly under her shoes, the metal of the gun cold as she wrapped her hand around the grip. Her hand was surprisingly steady as she raised the gun and aimed it at the Soldier’s back.

She’d studied the arm and other metal components that HYDRA had put into his body, but there was a particular weakness on his back where chromed metal met flesh. There were small neurotransmitters embedded in what remained of his left trapezius that allowed the arm to function as well as the other, unprotected by the arm itself. All she had to do was disrupt the connection without hitting the subclavian artery… 

She pulled the trigger, the Soldier barely moving with the force of the bullet as it pierced his flesh. Jemma froze, nearly dropping the gun as he let go of Daisy and stood to face her. She glanced at his arm, watching the slight dysfunction of the plates as he went to flex his hand. Jemma, with a sinking feeling, knew that it wouldn’t be enough to completely stop him.

“Jemma!” Daisy’s voice was hoarse. “Run!”

She went to shoot again, eyes instead catching the small metal ball rolling toward them. Compact explosive. Jemma realized that Daisy had gotten it off him as he’d choked her, recognizing it from the footage of his fight against Steve and Natasha before the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. Jemma ran as fast as she could, adrenaline fueling her as she ran down the street.

The explosion only happened seconds later, heat slamming into her back and throwing her into yet another car. Jemma screamed as her shoulder cracked, ears ringing from the explosion. Her right arm was unresponsive, leading her to believe that her shoulder has been dislocated. She blinked, realizing the haziness to her vision was the smoke. Her eyes immediately focusing on the black form still skidding across the road before coming to a stop as its back slammed into yet another lamppost.

The Soldier lay on the ground for only a moment, stiffly getting to his feet. Blood caked the entire right side of his face as he shook his head, lips twisting in a grimace of pain. He didn’t get a moment to breathe before Daisy sent a huge wave toward him, and like Jemma knew he would, raised his left arm to shield himself.

The malfunctioning plates could no longer protect the inner workings and Jemma saw the arm suddenly stiffen before falling slack at his side. He looked at the metal appendage with something akin to confusion as it didn’t respond to his brain’s commands.

Daisy went to hit him again, sending him rolling.

He got up faster than either woman thought he would, daggers flying.

One sank into the meat of her thigh and the other in her shoulder, Daisy staggering then falling on one knee as her leg gave out. She pulled them both out with shaking hands, forcing herself to stand upright with a knife in each hand. Daisy was showing clear signs of exhaustion now, shoulders sagging and breathing haggard.

But the Solider was already there, backhanding her _hard_ into the ground.

“Stop!” Jemma was running toward them, putting herself between Daisy’s prone body and him. He hadn’t outright killed her during this entire encounter, meaning his handlers wanted her alive. She could only imagine why they needed her, but she knew the Soldier wouldn’t go against those orders and kill her. “Just take me!”

He blinked down at her.

Jemma’s world spun as he too hit her aside, the entire left side of her face throbbing. She watched with dawning horror as he raised his foot to bring down on Daisy’s skull when a familiar face tackled him to the ground.

Both Steve and the Soldier went rolling, the latter doing rather well considering he only had one working arm. Sparing them one last glance, she crawled over to Daisy. She collapsed next to her friend, tears streaming down her face when she noticed blood dripping on the asphalt. Jemma saw the shadow before she heard, the ringing in her ears muffling everything.

May had knelt down next to them with worried eyes, words inaudible.

Jemma could feel her adrenaline seeping away with each breath, and with that, it revealed the reality of her injuries. Her head throbbed, her ribs ached, her shoulder felt like someone had stuck a hot poker into it, her hands stung, her back and shoulder felt like a thousand needles were being pushed in at once…

Her vision darkened around the edges, the combined pain finally pulling her under.

…………………………………………………………………………………..

She awoke to a blissful numbness feeling, like there was a barrier between her and her pain. Jemma blinked the sleep from her eyes, finding herself back in the medical wing of the base. She was glad the ringing in her ear had finally subsided as noticed the multitude of wires connecting her to beeping machines.

“Look who’s awake.”

Startled, Jemma jumped at the sound of Natasha’s cool voice. The movement sent a dull flash of pain down her spine and she grimaced. The moment before she passed out came back to her at once. “How’s Daisy? Is she alright?”

“She’s a little battered, but after a few stitches and some rest, she should be alright.” Natasha had her hip resting against the edge of her bed, her gaze cataloguing every injury. “Jumping in front of him, while an impulsive move, saved her life.”

“And James…?”

The woman’s lips turned down in a frown, genuine sadness in her eyes.

“Is he-?

“No.” Natasha came to her side, taking a bandaged hand in hers. “Rogers was able to contain him…knock him unconscious. He was put in one of the containment pods…he came to about an hour ago.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“He’s not talking to anyone…not even Steve.” Her eyes seemed focused on something far away.

Jemma heard the unspoken words _not me_ echo in Natasha’s voice in her mind. He’d buried himself inside his head and even Steve hadn’t been able to pull him out. That night on the roof came to mind, of the gun in his hand and the agony in his eyes…

“He’s refusing medical care as well.”

Jemma’s eyes widened, the bullet she’d put in him messing with the electrical impulse sent to the arm. Any movement made by the arm would hurt him, send a shock into every piece of metal in his body…into his head. Her voice waivered, “I _need_ to talk to him.”

“You can’t even walk Jemma.” Natasha tried gently.

“Then put me in a wheelchair.” Jemma pushed on. “Put me in a wheelchair and roll me down there then. I can’t just _lay_ here…I can’t just _lay_ here when he’s down there in pain. Not when I was part of the reason he’s-”

“Don’t.” Natasha cut her off. “Barnes made a _choice_. He made a choice to protect you two at the expense of himself. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing and _exactly_ what would happen to him when he left you in the Quinjet.” Her green eyes were flinty and hard, “He made the choice _knowing_ he wouldn’t have any more after it… Just let him have this decision for himself.”

Jemma blinked, chastened at what the Black Widow said, but knowing that the woman was right. He’d had his autonomy brutally taken from him and he was seizing it now in whatever way he could. She sighed, “I just want him to know he isn’t alone.”

Natasha smiles, responding in a softer voice. “He knows that, but-”

“He’s too far in his mind to care.”

She nodded. “He’ll come out of it.”

“When?”

Natasha seemed to speak from experience when she responded with, “I don’t know.”

……………………………………………………

Jemma wasn’t sure how long she stared at the ceiling of her room, unable to sleep. She couldn’t even think of closing her eyes, knowing that James was here on the base. Physically close, but mentally so far away…

“Jemma?”

She looked up, shocked to see Daisy leaning heavily against the doorframe and watched her limp to the edge of the bed. “You shouldn’t be up!”

“We both know I’m a horrible patient.”

Jemma grimaced as she scooted over, the movement rubbing the bandages on her back none too gently against the burns. With the arm not kept in a sling, she patted the small space next to her. “You can at least sit down…indulge me?”

“I can do that.” Daisy pushed herself onto the bed with a wince. “How’re you doing?”

Jemma just looked at her.

“Right…stupid question.” She worried her lip, dark eyes focusing on the dog tags. Daisy reached out, running her fingers over the inscription like Jemma had done so many times before. “They told me what happened after…”

Jemma flinched, knowing exactly she was talking about. “I didn’t want to watch him kill you.”

Daisy smiled, “I know.”

“They wanted me for something…I wouldn’t have been useful to them dead.”

 “I’m not mad Jemma…you don’t have to defend yourself.” Daisy shrugged. “Hell…I probably would’ve done the same thing. Why do you think I threw myself at the Soldier?”

“Because you have a death wish?”

“No…because I saw the look on your face when he grabbed you. I’ve never seen you so… devastated. You looked like you’d seen your world burn to the ground right in front of you and were helpless to stop it. And I knew James would never forgive himself if he hurt you further.”

“Me? What about you?”

“He and I came to an understanding. If he ever hurt you or became the Soldier, he gave me express permission to stop him by whatever means necessary.” Daisy frowned. “I’d hoped I’d never had to follow through on it.”

“You know where he is now right?”

Daisy nodded. “Containment pod 2…and I also know that he’s denied any and every one from speaking or even seeing him. I don’t think you’d go against what he wants.”

“You spoke to Natasha.”

She shook her head, “No…I know _you_. I seem to remember that you hardly left Fitz’s bedside while he was in his coma and I have it on good authority that you were the same way with me and Bobbi. It’s just who you are.”

Jemma blushed. “I’m being a good doctor.”

Daisy laughed. “Now that’s bullshit Jemma. You are one of the most loyal people I’ve ever met. I know, that if it were up to you, you’d put yourself outside that containment pod for however long you needed to regardless of the discomfort.”

Jemma nodded, suddenly realizing something. “Is there an audio/visual feed in the pod?”

“He insisted on it.” Daisy frowned. “Said it would be best if we could keep an eye on him.”

“Could I see it?” Jemma looked down at the dog tags. “I won’t go down there…I just need to _see_ him.” She was trying to convince herself that just seeing him would be enough for now…was trying to convince Daisy of the same, but the conviction behind it was weak. Jemma wanted to wrap her arms around him, tell herself that he was real and not another videotape, photograph, or lab report…

“I’ll see what I can do, but…” Daisy curled her hand around Jemma’s, “try to get some shut eye alright? The sooner you do, the sooner you’ll be out of this bed.”

Jemma smiled and shook her head, hearing the sly note in her friend’s voice. “I’m sensing your bad girl shenanigans again, aren’t I?”

Daisy laughed and went to stand. “Whose says _shenanigans_ anymore?”

“You two seem better.”

Both head turned to see a worn Steve in the doorway.

Jemma saw the nearly gone bruise on his cheek and the deep guilt in his eyes that she knew mirrored her own. She smiled anyways, the right side of her face throbbing. Jemma didn’t care that he could see through it, she just wanted him to know that she was okay with everything going on right now. “How ‘bout you?”

“I’m fine.” The smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes.

Jemma could actually feel Daisy’s eyebrow raise as she slid out of bed, careful not to put weight on her bandaged leg as she limped up the Steve. He seemed unsure of whether or not he should offer assistance as she slowly made her way past him and (hopefully) back to her room. It was a long moment before Jemma broke the silence, “Any change with James?”

His shoulders sagged and he shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.”

Jemma found herself repeating Natasha. “We have to respect his wishes.” 

“I know, it’s just…I just wish he’d talk to _someone_. You and I both know him losing himself inside his head does no good, but I don’t think we could pull him out at this point. Bucky…he’s always been stubborn like that, never voices his own problems if he felt they would be a burden to others.”

Jemma just looked at him. “Now why does that sound familiar?”

Steve ran a hand though his hair, cheeks pink. “I couldn’t help but overhear…that you wanted to see his feed in the containment pod.”

Jemma wasn’t surprised by the abrupt change of topic away from Steve himself. “Yeah.”

“I can get that for you on one condition…”

“You know as well as I that sleep is hard to come by.” Jemma didn’t have to mention the day’s earlier events and how they would most definitely feature in future nightmares. “I can’t sleep knowing…”

Steve walked over to one of the many machines, quickly finding the IV line that was pumping a steady stream of painkillers into her body. His fingers hovered over the button with hesitancy. “Would you like to up the dosage?”

Just the reminder of the medicine had her entire body aching and throbbing with a vengeance. She knew that even if she didn’t have nightmares, that the pain itself would keep from getting a decent night’s sleep. Jemma sighed, “That actually sounds like a good plan.”

Steve seemed to read her mind, a sad smile on his lips as he pressed the button down. He pulled the sheets up to her chin, gently squeezing her shoulder. “Good night Jemma.”

“ _Oidhche mhath_ , Steve.” She gave him a sleepy smile as the drugs finally pulled her under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oidhche mhath- Good night


	26. A Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another update....hope you guys enjoy!

Jemma awoke to the sound the door sliding closed, blinking the sleep from her eyes. It took her a moment to realize it was Bobbi checking the machines and comparing them to the chart she’d taken off the end of her bed.

The blonde looked up, “Hey Jemma…how’re you feeling?”

“Like I was blown up.”

“You were _almost_ blown up… I’m pretty sure I pulled a little over a dozen pieces of gravel and shrapnel from your back alone.” She flipped a page on the chart, lips pulling down in a frown. “Some of the metal shards were…melted to your skin. You’ll have a few more scars.”

Jemma just nodded. Despite her pale complexion and relatively easy-going demeanor, she wasn’t adverse to scars. They told of childhood adventures, of lessons learned, of battles fought, and tortures overcome… She couldn’t help but remember the glimpse of James’ back; of the pale lines that seemed to spider web from where the metal was fused to his shoulder…

“Speaking of…I’ll need to change the bandages on your back and clean the burns.” Bobbi gave her an apologetic smile. “A few areas are second degree so…I apologize in advance.”

“It’s fine, I know how it works.” Jemma smiled grimly, taking Bobbi’s hand and slowly inching out of the bed. She held tightly to the woman, legs nearly collapsing as they made their way over a stool. She let out a small sigh of relief as she finally sat down.

First, Bobbi took her recently dislocated arm from its sling before she washed her hands pulling on gloves and untied the back of the gown, exposing the thick layers of gauze and dressings from the base of her neck to her waist and gently pull the gown down her arms.

Jemma braced herself, hands curling around her knees as Bobbi removed the first layer of gauze and exposed the Bacitracin coated dressings. She knew Bobbi was being as gentle as she could when she removed one of the larger dressings first, but the searing pain that shot through her back felt like she was being burned anew and she screamed.

Tears poured down her cheeks, nails digging deeply into her thighs as another cry escaped her. It was almost as if she could feel every cell of her burned skin being pulled off…a type of agony she’d never felt in her life…

Cool hands removed her hands from her thighs, where her nails had drawn blood.

“Jemma look at me.”

Blinking away the blurriness, she met the eyes of Natasha. This close, Jemma could see flecks of pale blue within the deep green. She tried to hold her gaze, but another stabbing white hot pain had her clenching her jaw as she choked out a sob.

“Squeeze my hands Jemma.”

Jemma did just that, probably cutting off the woman’s circulation for the next five minutes as each dressing was removed and a clean one applied. She could vaguely recall her murmuring to her in an achingly familiar language, the Russian sounding as beautiful coming from her as it had from him, and for a moment, Jemma wanted so badly for James to be sitting in front of her.

“I miss him.” She found herself saying.

Natasha smiled sadly, brushing the tears away. “He misses you too.”

“I just want to see him…to know that he’s really _here_.” Jemma sighed as the heat in her back bled out with each passing moment. She gave a small smile as Natasha guided her over her to the bed and helped her get adjusted comfortably. “That he isn’t just another image from those _bloody_ files…”

“I wondered why Steve was asking for the feed to the pod.” Natasha glanced at Bobbi, then back at Jemma. “I’ll talk to Coulson.”

“Thank you Natasha.”

She nodded, walking silently from the room.

Jemma couldn’t help but see a little of the Winter Soldier in the Black Widow. It made sense, knowing where and how they met, but it more than just that. Both were weighed down by what they’d done, like the chains that Marley’s ghost wore, and were determined to atone for what they could in the hopes that they could prevent their fates happening to anyone else. Natasha by joining S.H.I.E.L.D. and then the Avengers; James by dismantling the organization that had created him.

“Do you want anything from your room?” Bobbi asked.

Jemma blinked, pulled back to the present. “The books, notepad, and pen off my dresser?”

Bobbi gave her a small grin. “I can do that.”

Hardly a minute passed after Bobbi left before Daisy poked her head around the corner, a sly curl to her lips. She limped into the room, grimacing as she lowered herself onto the rolling stool. “You’re going to write to him aren’t you?”

“What’s the point of writing…he could rip it up for all I know.”

“Now he may not read it, but I know for a fact he wouldn’t do that…I don’t think he’d ever destroy something you’d given him. He loves you far too much to do that.” Daisy glanced at the biohazard container, guilt clear in her eyes.

“You saved me Daisy…you don’t have to feel guilty about that.”

“You saved me first…I didn’t think you’d shoot him.” Daisy frowned. “You shouldn’t have had to do that. _Nobody_ should have to do that…it was smart though, disrupting the connection with the plates was smart thinking.”

“The bullet’s still in him…” She looked up at Daisy with fresh tears. “It’s hurting him…”  

Daisy ran a hand through her hair, muttering under her breath as she slowly edging herself closer to the bed. It was slow going, until her hand reached the rail and she pulled herself forward. “Don’t punish yourself Jemma…he wouldn’t want you to.”

“It seems we are failing each other in that regard then.”

“He loves you and you love him.” Daisy stated it like it was a known fact.

“Sometimes love isn’t enough.” Jemma replied forlornly, remembering Will’s resignation the moment before he told her to run and the sand that stung her skin as her scream followed the single gunshot…

“You need to be patient with him.” Her friend’s voice was soft.

“Daisy…” Bobbi shook her head as she entered the room, setting the things that Jemma had asked for on the bedside table. “You need to stay off that leg if you want it to heal.”

Daisy spun around, a childish grin spreading across her face. “I’m sitting aren’t I?”

Jemma laughed at Bobbi’s eye roll, forgetting her pain for a moment. Sometimes it was nice to have the reminder that even after the hell that they were currently in that there could possibly be a light at the end of the tunnel.

A soft knock on the door disrupted that when Natasha stepped in with a tablet in her hands.

………………………………………………………………….

Jemma stared at the screen, watching as the time went by…but he didn’t move. That night on the roof came to mind and she wanted so much to comb her fingers through his hair, his position seeming very uncomfortable after the hours he’d spent in it. The only consolation was the unmistakable muscle spasms as the arm periodically sent electricity through his body which told her he was still breathing. She knew the shocks were going to get worse though…

Suddenly, it felt like her pain became distant and it didn’t matter that her body ached and her back burned, all she wanted to do was hold him. She wanted to feel his warmth, his strength, his steady heartbeat…

“You’ve been staring at that screen for five minutes…”

She’d forgotten that Daisy had stayed with her after Bobbi and Natasha had left. “Sorry.”

“You’re alright.” She glanced at the screen and sighed. “He hasn’t moved for nearly twenty-four hours. It’s unsettling…and sad.” Daisy’s brows furrowed. Lips pursed as she thought something over. “He has advanced healing…right?”

“Yes.” Jemma was looking at her now.

“Would his body just heal around the bullet?”

“Where I shot him…the body’s ability to heal was disrupted slightly when the arm for forcibly fused to his body.” She swallowed the bitter taste of the words, continuing her explanation. “Most of the muscle in his shoulder was replaced with synthetic muscle and it doesn’t heal like any other would. If I had shot him a little lower, he probably would’ve healed from it with time, but…that bullet’s disrupted the electrical impulses from his brain to the arm.” She set down the tablet, “The electricity, used to sending stronger signals through metal, has nowhere else to go but through his spine and into the rest of his nervous system. He’s in pain constantly and it’s my fault so…no, his body can’t heal around it.”

Jemma didn’t even realize she was crying until Daisy pulled her into a hug or as much of a hug as either of them could manage. She let out a long breath, forcing herself not to go falling back to the suffocating sadness and guilt that seemed to constantly surround her now.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t know.” Daisy frowned when she pulled back. “Mangling the arm probably made things worse.”

“Probably, but that was what I was trying to do. Taking away his biggest weapon would slow him down just enough. I’d studied everything about the Winter Soldier and the arm. Both were designed to be weapons, but if working alongside Fitz for so long had taught me anything it was that every weapon as a weakness…and the arm was just that.” She hated talking like this, like a scientist discussing the best way to dismantle a faulty gun instead of a human being.

Daisy nodded, following her reasoning. “Does the threat of infection still exist?”

“Not that I know…the ZS 397 fights those off pretty quickly, although...” Jemma picked up the tablet, staring intently at the still James. “Does this keep his vitals?”

“Just his heartrate.” Daisy tapped the screen, pulled up the familiar lines of an EKG readout.

Jemma watched the regularly spaced beats closely, seeing slight variations every other beat that matched the small electricity-induced muscle spasms. They weren’t enough to cause worry at the moment, but Jemma knew they would get worse and that when they did...the continuous shocks to his heart (even enhanced as it was) could cause either atrial or ventricular tachycardia that could interrupt blood flow to the rest of his body. “Could you have this alert me when his heart rate goes above 100 bpm or below 50 bpm?”

“Yeah…why if you don’t mind me asking?”

“The amount of electricity will increase and I’m worried the shocks could throw off the electrical signals going to his heart.” She was glad she didn’t have to explain further as Daisy nodded and tapped the tablet a few times. “Thank you Daisy.”

She handed Jemma the tablet. “No problem.”

Glancing at the tablet, she watched another spasm went through James’ body, she set it down in her lap and motioned to the objects on the bedside table. “Could you hand those to me?”

Daisy spun the stool around, taking the books in hand. Her eyes skimmed the spines as she read aloud, “ _Jane Eyre…Pride and Prejudice…_ and _Frankenstein_?” She looked up at Jemma, “I never took you for a science _fiction_ reader.”

Jemma shrugged, “It was probably one of my favorites when I was a girl. The other children and even some adults found it odd that I’d choose to read something that dark at such a young age…even stranger was how I _wanted_ to learn if it was even scientifically possible when everyone told me it wasn’t. It was one of the many reasons I wanted to go into science in the first place, to _prove_ to them and to myself that science could explain so many things…”

Daisy smiled, “I can definitely see that.”

Jemma took the books, running a hand over the cover. The concept of piecing together a human being from different parts had seemed so grotesquely fascinating to her then. Her experiences up to this point had only solidified how truly horrible it was, both Deadlock and the Winter Soldier coming to mind…

“I’m gonna go alright?” Daisy pulled her out of her reverie. “We’ll talk later?”

Jemma waited until Daisy was gone to flip to clean piece of paper. Suddenly, she was nervous and unsure of what to write. What if it didn’t come out the way she wanted? What if she said something wrong? What if he didn’t read it all? _Or he can’t read it_ crossed Jemma’s mind, remembering how even the slightest movement could cause him pain…

Strangely, the thought itself steadied Jemma’s left hand (she had never been more glad to be ambidextrous) and she began to write,

                _James,_

_I know you don’t want to speak to anyone…especially me. And I understand that and I will give you your space for however ever long you want to. This note is to let you know that Daisy and I are okay and that I miss you. I’ve missed you so much and I hope, that with time, you’ll come back to yourself and be the beautiful soul I fell in love with. Until then, I will wait for you._

_-Jemma_

Jemma looked at the note debating if she should’ve said she was in love with him for a moment, but only a moment. James, from the first time he’d met her, had seen himself as too broken, too bloody, and too monstrous to be loved. The instance where’d he’d fallen to his knees with his neck bared came to mind, the amazement and disbelief in his eyes when she’d kissed him.  He was very much an “actions speak louder than words” type of person and maybe…just maybe, this would pull him out of his head long enough to realize that there were people who cared for him as well.

…………………………………………………………………………..

Daisy came back a couple hours later with noticeably new bandages, arching an eyebrow at the folded piece of paper in Jemma’s lap. Sitting down in the stool, she once again rolls herself over to Jemma’s side. “You finished with it?”

“I’ve been finished with it for hours now, but I realized that I have no way to get it too him.” She tried getting out of the bed herself only once, her body violently protesting the whole way. Her back was the worst, the burns like claws digging into her skin with each flex of muscle.

“I can get it to him.” Daisy replied matter-of-factly, never mind the fact that she still had a heavy limp where the dagger had cut into both the rectus femoris and vastus medialis muscle and that each step risked further tears in the muscles and would prolong healing time. “And don’t tell me I can’t walk.”

“You shouldn’t be walking at all.” Jemma chastened. “You risk damaging the leg further.”

“I’ve already been given the talk by both Bobbi and Lincoln, Jemma. That’s why I’m using crutches. And yes,” Daisy held up a hand as Jemma opened her mouth, “I also know that this’ll irritate my shoulder.” Daisy pulled down the collar of her gown, exposing the small bandage with a barely visible line of stitches. “Bobbi said that that the strain wouldn’t cause any more damage than the knife did.”

Jemma could only imagine how that conversation went down…then again, Bobbi was just as bad a patient as Daisy, not wanting to in a bed all day. “Does Bobbi know _why_ you want crutches?”

“Of course, she wouldn’t be Bobbi if she didn’t. Now enough about me…” Daisy looked at Jemma, motioning to the letter. “Do you want me to take it to him or not?”

Jemma fiddled with the paper.

“You nervous?”

Jemma’s silence was answer enough.

“You have _nothing_ to be nervous about Jemma.” Daisy sighed, looking at the folded piece of paper. “Unless you would rather _not_ give it to him. I won’t give it to him unless you want me too…and I won’t force you to do it.”

Jemma bit her lip, handing it over. “Take it before I change my mind.”

Daisy tucked the letter under her arm as she slowly pulled herself to her good foot, slowly hopping to the doorway. She turned back, looking at Jemma. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Jemma nodded, almost feeling at peace for the first time since the Quinjet had crashed. She’d done something, and even though there was a chance he wouldn’t read it, she was safe in that knowledge. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Daisy smiled, “Well when I get back to my room and wrestle up some crutches, I will get this to him.”

“Thank you Daisy.”

“No problem…see you later?”

“Yeah.” Jemma picked up the tablet, barely registering Daisy leaving the room as she watched another stutter appeared on his EKG, coinciding with a minuscule shudder go through his rigid body. She wanted nothing more than to sooth him. But she had to respect what he wanted and, like Jemma said in his note, she would wait for him. She wasn’t going to leave him, not now…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't practice medicine in any form nor am I particularly great with any aspect of science, so any things mentioned is done mostly through research...so I apologize for any inaccuracies. 
> 
> Next chapter will be in Daisy's POV... Until next time!


	27. Convince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooooo sorry about how long this took! Between returning home, my computer acting up, a two summer jobs...time just got away from me, but this a long chapter (almost 4,000 words) so I hope you enjoy!

Daisy watched as Jemma stared at the tablet with such an intense…longing expression, her heart ached for her friend she slowly made her way out of the room. When the door finally closed behind her, Daisy allowed herself a moment to feel the pain she’d pushed away for Jemma’s sake, and leaned heavily against the wall. Her right leg throbbed viciously in time with both her shoulder and head.

“Daisy, you alright?” Rogers asked tentatively.

She’d already forced a smile to her face when she looked up, reining the pain in to a small corner of her mind. “Yeah, I’m good.”

His lips twitched upward at the obvious lie.

“I’m just taking a breather…hopping around on one leg is a little tiring.”

One blonde eyebrow rose. “Is that all?”

“You know, if you’re so worried…” She smirked, “you could always give me a piggyback ride?”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, used to her teasing. “You headed back to your room?”

“Yeah, I need to grab my phone, but after that…I’m headed to the labs…I need crutches.” Daisy figured she’d tell him the truth, considering the reason she needed them in the first place.

His gaze found the folded piece of paper, quickly coming to a conclusion as to what Daisy planned on doing. Rogers held an arm, “Let’s go then.”

Grateful, Daisy wrapped an arm around his waist and he snaked his arm underneath hers. While she usually would turn down any help, she found she didn’t have the energy to. They made their way to both her room and the labs in silence, Daisy only stumbling occasionally. Rogers (obviously) held her up with ease, almost picking her up with one arm in a few instants. “You know,” She said as the reached the entrance to the lab, “I never thanked you for the assist.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner.” His eye flicked the bruised half of her face with a frown, “You shouldn’t have had to face him alone.”

“I’m glad I was there though.” Daisy gently squeezed his arm, “I couldn’t let him take her.”

“Buck will be thankful for that…” He blinked, eyes distant for a moment before smiled fondly. “You often remind me of him before…and even now. You both have a stubborn protectiveness about you, a drive to protect your families, even if it means your destruction, and you both feel things so…passionately.”

Daisy blushed from the compliments, honored by them. She’d never thought of herself in that way, but seeing it in others. Coulson, loyal and compassionate. May, strong and protective. Bobbi, fierce and confident. Hunter, humorous and driven. Fitz, kind and intelligent. Lincoln, steadfast and loving. And Jemma… “Jemma is his calm amidst the chaos.”

“That she is.” His smile brightened. “Jemma grounds him in a way I’ve never seen.”

“James…” She paused, trying to think of the right words. “After Will, she seemed dimmed… almost drained of the light from her. He’s lit a fire in her that I never thought I’d see again. He’s breathed life into her. These last weeks…” Daisy blinked away the tears prickling her eyes. “I never want to see her like that again.”

He squeezed her arm gently, “Let’s go get you some crutches.”

……………………………………………………….

After saying goodbye, she slowly made her way down to the containment pods. Daisy ignored the persistent ache that came from the slightly pulled stitches in her shoulder with each step, concentrating instead on the paper crinkling in her hand.

The old her…Skye…would’ve had no qualms with reading it. Now, though, she knew that some secrets were kept for a reason and that anything Jemma had written to James was as private as her own thoughts.

She was only slightly surprised to find the Black Widow sitting with her legs crossed and back against the containment pod, her signature pair of Glock 26s dismantled in front of her as she meticulously cleaned them.

Daisy recognized the habit from the other former Russian assassin sitting in the containment pod. James, when he couldn’t sleep, would sit in the armory and take apart every one of his guns, clean them, and reassemble them at least twice.

Without looking up, she spoke. “Is that for James?”

“Yeah.” Daisy responded, glancing through the window of the pod. “Is it alright if I go in?”

Cool green eyes met hers, “Sure, just don’t expect a response.”

Daisy frowned at that, but entered the access code to the pod. The door slid open with a hiss and she stepped inside, watching for a reaction from James. There was none as she then entered the code again, the second door opening into the bright white room.

James, his black tactical gear covered in blood, sweat, and ashes, caught her attention immediately as he sat in the furthest corner from the door. His head was still bowed, right hand clenched into a fist against his temple as another shudder went through him.

Daisy close her eyes, reading the vibrations around him. She knew the second another shock zipped up his spine into the base of his skull, felt the slight tightening of his fist, felt the muscles of his heart contracting erratically as the electricity passed through it, the inaudible puff of air from his lips… She opened her eyes, realizing just what Jemma’s fears were. Super soldier or not, prolonged exposure to constant electric shocks (no matter how small) were taking a toll on his heart.

Leaning the crutches against the unused bed, she lowered herself until she was sitting across from him. Stretching out her throbbing leg, she slid the letter within his current sightline, where she noticed the light sheen of sweat over his pale skin.

She could understand why he’d closed himself off, but refusing any medical care wasn’t hurting just him. Jemma’s tear-filled eyes flashed through her mind. “James.”

He growled something at her, Daisy not needing a translation to read the tone.

“I’m not leaving, Barnes.” Daisy pulled her fully charged phone out of her pocket, already planning on thanking Fitz for the ridiculous battery life. _She’d have to get him to look at her laptop…_ Silencing her phone, she opened Candy Crush, just something to keep her hands busy. “You’re stuck with me.”

………………………………………………………………………….

Two hours passed in silence, and surprisingly, it was James who broke it. “Thank you.”

Daisy looked up from her phone, meeting eyes glassy with pain. She thought back to her conversation with Jemma and the promise she’d made the man sitting across from her. She could feel the faint vibrations of his broken bones grinding together with each breath, the serum more focused on keeping his heart beating than anything else. She remembered just how much it had taken to give him that damage, “I kept a promise.”

His breathing became heavier, more ragged, as another shock went through him.

Daisy grew concerned. “Barnes?”

“I’m fine.”

Her phone vibrated only a second later, Daisy glancing at the screen.

_Get Lincoln NOW!_

No sooner had she read the message when Barnes’ body suddenly went slack, right hand hitting the floor and chin dropping to his chest.

Daisy shot up, pain forgotten as she banged on the window. “Natasha!”

The woman was already through the door, “Help me lay him on his back.”

It took precious seconds to lie him flat, Natasha pulling a wicked looking knife from thin air and cutting through the layers of gear and clothing before beginning chest compressions. Daisy could only watch, hating the helplessness she felt in that moment. She’d restarted Lincoln’s heart before, she could do it…but she was frozen. Damnit…why couldn’t she _move_?

“Come on.” Natasha growled, “Don’t do this.”

Daisy looked up as the door opened again, relief filling her at the sight of Lincoln.

He touched Natasha’s shoulder, the woman immediately moving away, hands hovering over his chest. Electricity crackled at his fingertips as he shocked James’ heart, body arching off the floor. He paused, feeling his neck for a pulse, before shocking him again. He muttered a curse as he yet again failed to detect a heartbeat. Lincoln wet his lips, shocking James again.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief as James’ let out a coughed breath.

Steve came in just seconds later, eyes shining with tears when he saw his friend. “Is he-?”

“He’s okay Steve,” Natasha replied, everyone else too rattled.

Lincoln let out a breath, “We need to move him…Captain?”

Everyone looked at James, remembering explicitly how he’d denied medical care the second he’d woken up. Yet they all seemed to agree that after what had just happened, that they were going to ignore his request.

Lincoln spoke up, “I have a gurney ready right outside.”

Steve nodded, picking up James with ease. He carried him to the gurney, laying him down.

Grabbing her phone and crutches, she followed Lincoln into the elevator with Steve. Natasha took the stairs, the emergency elevator unable to hold them all. Daisy leaned back against the wall, watching as Steve murmured something to his friend in that lilting language similar to the one that Jemma and Fitz spoke. She felt fingers intertwine with hers and she met Lincoln’s gaze, lines of tension around his mouth. “You brought him back Lincoln.”

“It never should’ve gotten that bad. The serum is the only reason he’s not dead right now.”

Daisy glanced at Steve, the man too focused on his friend to hear their conversation.

“We need to get that bullet out now. He can’t take much more electricity.” He pursed his lips, reaching to feel for the pulse in James’ wrist. “His heart is still too fast for my liking.”

“I’m assuming Bobbi and Fitz are on stand-by?”

Lincoln nodded.

The rest of the elevator ride was quiet, as was the short trip to the nearest bed, which turned out to be next door to Jemma. Daisy waited until Bobbi and Fitz went to work on James, pulling out the bullet and ruined neurotransmitter, before walking into the Jemma’s room. “Hey.”

Jemma was clutching the dog tags in hand, “Where is he?”

Daisy motioned with her thumb. “Right next door.”

Her friend’s entire body seemed to sag in relief, “Thank you.”

“Just doing what you told me.”

“You didn’t have to stay with him…”

Daisy looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “We both know I wasn’t going to leave him.”

Jemma nodded.

A knock had them both turning. It was Natasha, her expression carefully blank.

Jemma and Daisy both shared a look, both coming to the conclusion that neither of them were going like what was going to be said next. Daisy took Jemma’s hand, hoping that something hadn’t happened to James in the whole minute since she last saw him (with their luck lately it could happen). “What’s wrong?”

She motioned to the hallway.

Daisy gave Jemma a forced smile as she squeezed her hand, following the Black Widow out of the room and into the empty hallway. Her expression fell into a stoic mask as she met the woman’s eyes, “Yes?”

Natasha pulled out the crinkled piece of paper, “He’s asking.”

She looked at the letter, “Why not you?”

The redhead shrugged, a knowing uptick to her lips as she held out the letter.

Daisy took it and nodded. Adjusting the crutches, she made it to the doorway of his room.

He was the only one who looked up, Lincoln, Bobbi and Fitz too engrossed in patching him up to take their eyes off him. His eyes were clear, full of guilt as he noticed her injuries and crutches as well as her rattled demeanor.

“You asked for me?” 

He nodded at the paper. “Did she write that?”

Daisy gave him a small smile. “She did.”

He swallowed, looking almost afraid as he held out his hand.

Without reading it, she unfolded it and placed it in his waiting palm. Daisy watched as he quickly read and reread whatever Jemma had written him, his eyes widening as he glanced between her and the letter. She could see the sheen of moisture in them, lips parting as he tried to form words.

“She loves me?”

_Oh Jemma…_ Daisy smiled at him, tears blurring her own vision at his look of astonishment and…joy. She’d hadn’t seen him this happy since before the Alps base, remembering the languid kiss they’d shared in the kitchen…how at peace they’d both looked. She simply replied, “As you love her.”

He let out a choked sound, a cross between and a cry and a laugh.

Daisy felt their audiences’ eyes and looked up, meeting Lincoln’s first. His responding smile filled her with warmth as it always did and she returned it in kind.

Bobbi’s small grin was filled with an almost sad understanding, while Fitz just seemed sad.

Daisy heart ached at that, knowing how much and how long he had loved Jemma...still loved her. It would’ve been hard _not_ to with how big and bright she was, lighting up a room with her wide smile. But she also knew that he loved her enough to let her go…to be happy

James’ expression dimmed suddenly and he blinked, brow furrowed as though he were trying to remember something. His eyes grew distance, mind somewhere else completely, as his entire body went rigid for a long moment.

Daisy could feel the unease in the air, everyone holding their breath.

He came back with a shudder, right hand digging into his temple. “ _Fuck_.”

Ignoring the warning looks Bobbi and Fitz were shooting her, Daisy sat on edge of the bed next to him. She sat close enough to offer whatever he needed without being touched, watching a myriad of emotions run through his eyes.

She couldn’t help but compare the man sitting mere inches from her to the machine that had had a metal hand closed mercilessly around her throat. They were different is so many ways, yet Daisy could see similarities…mainly in the intensity of his stare. She had found it unnerving to see nothing looking back at her through his eyes and to watch Jemma nearly crumble under that gaze.

Movement drew her attention to Fitz, who seemed unsure if he could continue maintenance on the arm. His hands were steady as they held the tools, a far cry from the shaking and trembling of nearly a year ago…

“Barnes? Can Fitz-”

“Yeah, yeah,” He waved at his arm before pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead, jaw clenching as he growled out a muttered curse. His shook his head when Fitz suddenly moved away, “It’s not the arm, it’s my- _fuck_.” He took as deep a breath as he could manage. “Remembering things from those times is…painful.”

“What’re you trying to remember?”  Daisy asked gently.

“Anything…” He ground out, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Anything that can help.”

Daisy shared a look with Lincoln and Bobbi, both of whom look concerned. She watched as his knuckles turned bone white, her own worry pulling her lips into a frown. She motioned for a tablet, “Do you remember a general location?”

“Russia…a port.”

Furiously typing, Daisy narrowed down the perimeters. Russia itself was a massive country, so even with just the coastal ports, there was still over a dozen possibilities. She cross-referenced those with the proximity to hypothesized Hydra bases, narrowing it down to ten. “Rural or urban?”

It was silent for a few minutes, save for his harsh breathing and Fitz’s tinkering. Daisy glanced up as Lincoln and Bobbi left, reassuring them with a small smile before returning her gaze to the tablet. Drumming her nails on the side of it, she watched Fitz as he worked on the small metal plates in the hand, pulling out larger pieces that had been loosened by her…. The train of thought had her frantically typing.

Using a small port would be counterproductive to keeping their operations a secret…they would be too noticeable…too memorable. That and they would need easy access to international waters. A large port would cover both points. It was easy to hide in a crowd and an ocean was just that. Changing the perimeters, the number was then narrowed down to three. “Barnes.” Tentatively, she lightly touched his arm. “James?”

Pale eyes peered through a curtain of damp dark hair.

“I think I’ve narrowed it down to three ports. If I tell you, would it help?”

“What are they?”

“Port of Murmansk?”

He shook his head.

“Port of Arkhangelsk?”

“I-” He clenched his jaw. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay…you’ve helped narrow it down. One more?”

He nodded.

“Big Port of Saint Petersburg.”

He blinked, licking his lips. “ _Isaakievskiy_.”

“Isa what?”

“ _Isaakievskiy Sobor_...Saint Isaac's Cathedral.” He sat up a little straighter. “I remember the dome…”

Daisy pulled up a picture of the gilded dome, showing it to him. “This one?”

“ _Da_.” James’ entire body seemed to relax, “Yeah.”

She caught Fitz’s eyes, “How much work does his arm need?”

The engineer frowned. “Four or five hours at minimum…”

“Okay,” Daisy ran a hand through her hair, “just keep working on it. I need to tell Coulson where-” Jemma’s agonized scream cut through the walls like they were paper and she closed her eyes as the explosion that caused those damned burns played over and over in her head. Daisy’s head snapped over to James, who’d gone shades paler. “Look at me…James!”

“What did I do?” His voice shook. “Did I hurt her?”

“ _I_ hurt her.” She looked down at her hands.

“What happened? I…I don’t remember-”

Daisy shot a questioning glance at Fitz. She really didn’t want to show him the shaky video footage of their fight…of him throwing Jemma aside when Daisy attacked…of Jemma putting herself in front of his gun… She ran a hand down her face, sighing as she pulled up the clips she had. “Here’s what I could find.”

“Daisy-”

She cut off Fitz with a look, telling him without a word to just keep working on the arm. Daisy focused on the air around James, watching for any sign of movement. She closed her eyes as Jemma shot him, remembering the feeling of an unforgiving hand around her throat and the cool metal of the explosive falling into her palm…

He let out a ragged breath at the explosion, cracks spreading along the glass of the tablet like a spider web where he held it. Pale eyes took in her injuries, focusing on the bruising that took up half her face. “I’m sorry.”

Daisy shook her head, “Don’t start with that Barnes. Don’t apologize for _their_ orders.” She looked at the cracked tablet, her body finally loosening as Jemma’s pained scream subsided. “What were their orders? All we could figure out was that they need Jemma alive.”

His frown deepened. “Leverage.”

“Leverage against w-?” She stopped, dread filling her. “You.”

He nodded. “They knew they couldn’t completely control me, not until they had Jemma and the information she carried under their control.”

“The London attack was to draw us out…to draw _her_ out.” Daisy clenched her fists, the deaths those agents being used as little more than bait. “What else did they want?”

He shook his head, “I can’t piece it together, but maybe…”

“What?”

He glanced at the letter, then Fitz, then back at Daisy, and finally at his mismatched hands. There was a resigned acceptance to his gaze…like he knew she wouldn’t like was he was going to say, but it was going to happen regardless. “You ask the Soldier what his orders are.”

Daisy could feel the blood rush to her face. “The hell we will!”

“You can contain him…” He was irritatingly calm when he responded. “Have Romanov talk to him and keep Steve on standby. Since I wasn’t…wiped, the Soldier still has those orders…all the intel they shared with him…That information is importa-”

“ _You’re_ important too.” She responded to his cool collectiveness with her own fire. “We did _not_ just spend two weeks scouring the world for you and fighting the Soldier to let him come back in play just like that!” Daisy narrowed her eyes, gesturing to the wall that Jemma’s room shared with his. “She is waiting for _you_! Not the Soldier.”

He flinched.

“Damnit.” Daisy sighed, knowing that his plan was the only way to get the necessary information, her anger at him fading at the pain her words caused. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “At least talk to her before you do this…she deserves that.”

Barnes’ eyes flashed in indignation, hurt that she’d even think he’d not talk to Jemma.

“Sorry I- I didn’t mean it like that.” Daisy rubbed the back of her neck. “I just…don’t want to see her hurt anymore.”

He stared the far wall, “I feel like all I _do_ is hurt her.”

Daisy glanced at Fitz over the exposed metal arm, whose blue eyes flicked toward the door before returning to the intricate gears and wiring of the wrist. She looked back at James, his mind a million miles away, and sighed. She turned back to Fitz, “I’ll be right back.”

The engineered nodded, not looking up.

Gritting her teeth, Daisy limped to the next room over, where Bobbi had just finished applying clean bandages. She didn’t get a chance to open her mouth before she was pushed gently onto the stool. “Bobbi-”

“Sit. You need a new bandages on that leg.”

Jemma’s smile was amused when Daisy shimmied out of her shorts and held out her leg, but there was a sadness in her eyes as the dog tags _clink_ ed in between her fingers.

Daisy frowned, recalling Barnes’ thousand yard stare. “Bobbi?”

She cut away the old bandages, exposing the line of stitches and the bruising surrounding them, not looking up as she quickly applied both antibiotic cream and anti-inflammatory cream. “Yeah?”

“Can you get me a wheelchair?”              

Bobbi paused in reaching for clean gauze, then nodded. “After I’m done with your leg.”

Daisy fidgeted, impatient as Bobbi quickly and efficiently wrapped the bandages around her thigh. She pulled her shorts back on as soon as Bobbi left, trying to ignore Jemma’s questioning look as she slowly slid of the stool and test how much weight she could put on her leg.

Bobbi returned a few minutes later with a wheelchair.

Daisy turned to Jemma, motioning for Bobbi, “Let’s get you in this chair.”

Jemma stiffened. “Why?”

“I’m taking you to James.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before, anything Russian (cities, ports, etc.) or medical is found entirely through research and I'm sorry if anything is inaccurate.
> 
> Next chapter will be in Bucky's POV...until next time!


	28. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm a broken record, but I apologize for the wait. I had to start this chapter over and Bucky's POV is somewhat difficult for me to write in...but I think I got it! 
> 
> WARNING: Spoilers for Season 4 after this point.

James was accustomed to silence. After sleepless nights listening for Stevie’s ragged breathing and the long hours spent staring through a scope as both Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier, it had been a constant companion. But now, sitting alone with Fitz as he worked on the arm, the quiet was almost agitating.

He watched the engineer, seeing the sureness in the other man’s hands as he tested each of the metal fingers’ reflexes. Fitz was calm and unafraid of being left alone in a room with him or that he was fixing something that could kill him in a split second. It seemed to be something he and Jemma had in common…

Even the thought of her name nearly had him going rigid again.

_She loved him…_

He hadn’t believed that someone could ever love him knowing everything that he’d done, especially since the things that had been done to his mind still lingered. Still couldn’t…yet Jemma said she did. Even more astounding, she saw his soul as something full of light rather than black and drowning in blood.

“Knock knock”

James did go rigid for a moment, inwardly cursing himself for not paying attention to his surroundings. He looked up, eyes widening when he saw Daisy pushing a wheelchair with Jemma. A knot had suddenly formed in his throat at the sight of her.

Even with her pale skin mottled with bruises and scabbed over cuts, lavender shadows under weary hazel eyes, and the bulge of bandages underneath the hospital gown…she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

James couldn’t hold that gaze for long, though, bowing his head under the weight of it. He felt unworthy of her devotion… The kind of love she gave was more deserving of someone who wouldn’t hurt her as easily as he breathed.

“James?”

He closed his eyes, her soft accented voice like a balm, catching the sound of Daisy and Fitz’s footsteps as they left the room and the wheels of Jemma’s chair moving forward moments before her hand brushed his cheek…

_Fingers dug into his jaw, trying to force his mouth open. “Such disobedience Soldat.”_

His eyes snapped open, the image of the men who held him gone as fast as it had come.

“James please...”

_"Please don’t do this…you can fight them!” She pleaded with him, tears cutting clean paths through the blood and soot on her face. Her broken heart was reflected in those beautiful eyes…_

The pain of the memory cut deeper than any knife or bullet could and James leaned into her touch, the warmth pushing back the images…for now. He heard her sharp intake of breath, almost relieved that she hadn’t said anything. Taking a moment to gather himself, he met her gaze.

She smiled, brushing her thumb over his stubbly cheek. “You’re back.”

He felt an invisible knife twist in his stomach, the guilt of what he would be doing in a few short hours nearly suffocating. _He would hurt her again…_ Yet, James found a small smile curling his lips, “I told you I would.”

She kissed him then, leaning forward as much as she was able in her chair.

James could feel every emotion being poured into the small, gentle action. Her fingers tangled in his hair the kiss deepened, his only good hand resting on the curve of her waist. _God_ he’d almost forgotten how _complete_ he felt whenever he was with her...or how she grounded him with little more than a simple touch and a few words.

She pulled away, resting her forehead against his, “I love you.”

For the first time in weeks, James smiled. “I…I love you too.”

Her returned smile was blinding, only a small grimace of pain visible she settled herself back in the wheelchair. The light behind her expression dimmed when she glanced at the partly reconstructed metal arm, no doubt thinking of the bullet she’d shot and the damage that it had had on his body. “I’m sorry.”

James blinked, slightly surprised. He’d hurt her so many times; physically, mentally, and emotionally; yet she was apologizing to him. Just when he thought he could read her, she turned around said things like that. He went to run his fingers lightly over the bruises covering half of her face, remembering from the shaky footage to have been caused by the same hand. He found himself pulling away, not wanting to hurt her more than he already was.

She opened her mouth to speak, probably to ask what was wrong, but closed it after a moment without words. Jemma instead curled her hand over his clenched fist, bringing it to her lips. “It’s okay James, I’m okay.”

He said nothing, just closing his eyes and focusing on the warmth of her touch. It was so unlike the innumerable number of doctors and scientists and engineers that poked and prodded and cut and melded… James could feel the emptiness of the Soldier prowling along the edges of his mind, like a shadow moving through darkness.

_Good morning, Soldier…_

_Ready to comply_ …

James shook his head, images overlapping each other: a bank vault in DC…a Cold War bunker in Siberia… a metal table in Moscow, a young girl with red hair and guilt in her eyes...a blood-splattered chair with Zola leaning over him…

“ _Such stubbornness Sergeant Barnes,” Zola held up a vile of clear turquoise liquid, flicking it a couple times. “No matter…” the man smiled as he inserted the needle into the already abused vein of his left arm. “…that’ll fade.”_

He ground his teeth, his body feeling phantom pain from a limb lost decades prior, forcing himself to look at the chromed metal. All that did was bring on another onslaught of flashing images…this time of the Soldier with his metal hand around a scientists’ throat, Stevie’s, Daisy’s…

“James-”

_The procedure has already started…_

_You are to be the new fist of Hydra…_

“James, please…”

_Bucky?_

_Please don’t make me do this…_

_I’m with you ‘til the end of the line…_

“James, it’s…it’s me.”

_Don’t make me hurt you Barnes…_

_Jemma loves you, don’t do this…_

It was her name that snapped him out of the fog of his memories, horrified that the choked voice he’d heard was Jemma…with his fingers digging into the soft skin of her neck and pleading hazel eyes. _No…_ He let go of her in horror.

She reached out to him, voice raspy. “James-”

_“Stay away!”_ James growled, not sure which language he was currently speaking. The images were churning up too much…chaos. He couldn’t set it all straight in his head. He couldn’t…focus. Not even Jemma’s worried cries were reaching him. All he could see was face after tear-streaked face, pleading for mercy with a gun to their head or a metal hand crushing their vertebrate…

_Just spare my daughter please…_

_My children…they had nothing to do with this…please…_

_She’s pregnant, I beg of you…please…please…don’t hurt her…_

_“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”_ James bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper, repeating the phrase over and over again in any language he knew. He shook as his head, trying to dislodge his victims’ ghosts.

“James…James it’s Jemma…” Fingers brushed his hand. “I’m here.”

_“Jemma Simmons…such a pretty thing.” Crouched down in front of James’ beaten and shackled form, the Russian accent in his voice thick, was a dark-haired man with narrowed eyes. “A shame she was working with Coulson and the Inhumans. Unnatural creatures…Enhanced freaks like you.”_

_“Enhanced freak…” James let out a dry laugh, “That’s a new one.”_

_The man began to deliver a barrage of kicks to his torso when another voice stopped him._

_“Superior! Blake said not harm the Asset…”_

_James stiffened at the title…the Asset. He looked around as the men argued, taking in his surroundings. They were in a submarine, the labels all in Cyrillic and the mechanics similar to that of the Cold War bunker he’d been kept in Siberia. This was a Soviet vessel, probably offshore of Russia itself…_

_He listened as they argued in Russian, ignoring the actual words and instead focusing on the pronunciations of the words. The one that had barged in was clearly from the Southern regions, voice softer than that of the man in charge. The one in charge had an odd mix of both Central and Northern dialects, like he’d lived somewhere as a child and had grown up somewhere else, but he was unsure of which places this move occurred…_

_The man, the Superior, glared at him with such hatred that James wondered if he’d killed someone close to this man as the Soldier. Just like with every time that thought flitted across his mind, he felt another sliver of guilt pierce his heart. He met the man’s look with a cold one of his own, absently pulling on the shackles with his right hand, the pin through his wrist sending a flash of pain up his arm each time while his left arm hung unmoving. James could still feel the faint electrical shocks from when they’d jammed something in the juncture of metal and flesh…_

_The Superior’s fist connected with James’ cheek hard enough to move his head to the side, adding in Russian. “The Zimniy Soldat, I am told, can take a beating.”_

_James said nothing at first as he spit out the blood on the man’s boots, chuckling at the Superior’s arrogance. He smiled patronizingly with red stained teeth, responding in a thick Brooklyn drawl. “This ain’t a beatin’…my ma hit harder than that.”_

_That earned him another strike._

_James worked his aching jaw, running his tongue along his teeth. Nothing cracked or loosened…in his face at least. His battered ribcage was another story… He watched the man step back, his hands clenched in bloody fists, the way he held himself an indication of some sort of military training… He didn’t look old enough to have served before the Soviet Union fell, though, so not former KGB…maybe former GRU? SVU?_

_“James Buchanan Barnes…” Another voice, in English, came from a holographic image that had suddenly turned on, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. “Born March 10 th, 1917. Only son of Italian immigrant, Anita Moretti, and Michael Barnes…brother to Winnifred Barnes, Elizabeth Barnes, and Rebecca Barnes…currently Rebecca Proctor.” _

_James growled, the names of his parents and his sisters sparking his anger. “Who are you?”_

_“A former agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.” The older man looked down at him, something akin to condensation in his eyes. “Although it wasn’t really S.H.I.E.L.D…. it was Hydra hiding behind it, but you knew that.”_

_“I didn’t even know my own name at the time, Agent…what makes you think I had any knowledge of that?” James forced himself to calm down, to push the anger back for now. It would be useful later…_

_“Your…creator, Armin Zola, was at the head of it all. He was the parasite that brought Hydra in in the first place.” He picked up a file, flicking through a few pages. “It says here…that you operated as their assassin for almost fifty years.”_

_More like sixty, James thought, a sour taste in his mouth._

_He met James’ gaze evenly. “Yet you don’t look older than thirty…is that a product of the serum by any chance?”_

_The Superior seemed disgusted by the thought._

_James looked away from the hologram, not liking where this conversation was headed, and stared resolutely at the far wall. Once the experimentation was brought up everything would go downhill…_

_The agent sighed. “You cooperation is preferred, but not necessary.”_

_James didn’t respond._

_“Fine…Ivanov, get the book.”_

_He glanced up, finding the small leather journal on the table, baring a red jacket and single black star. James went completely still. No…_

_“Flip to page seven and begin with the first word.”_

_James let his head fall, closing his eyes. He knew what was coming. Had actually expected it for a while now. It was the only way they’d ever get him to do what they wanted, but he wasn’t ready…never would be._

_“Zhelaniye.”_

_He bit back the urge to beg…plea with them to stop, but James knew with a bone deep certainty that they wouldn’t listen. No one ever did._

_“Rzhavyy.”_

_He thought of Steve and Jemma, remembering their smiles and laughs..._

_“Semnadtsat’.”_

_Jemma’s kiss…her touch…_

_“Rassvet.”_

_His body went rigid with pain, his head feeling as though it were getting cracked open…ripped apart by the electricity over and over again as the Soldier clawed its way into his brain. He could already feel the emptiness…the barrenness of his mind. Frantically, he pulled at the shackles…strained against them._

_“Pech’.”_

_Jemma’s tear-streaked face suddenly flashed behind his closed eyelids._

_“Devyat’.”_

_The metal of the restraints groaned._

_“Dobroserdechnyy.”_

_I’m sorry Jemma…Steve. I didn’t want to leave you…_

_“Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu…”_

_Their faces were slipping away from him like water between his fingers, his own thoughts being smothered under the Soldier’s programming. James…Bucky…were disappearing more and more with each word._

_“Odin.”_

_A single tear slipped down his cheek._

_I love you, Jemma Simmons._

_“Gruzovoy vagon.”_

“ _JAMES!”_ Jemma’s scream cut through the memory…the chaos…like a knife and he blinked, returning to himself. She had put some distance in between them, but she hadn’t left. Fresh bruising encircled her throat…she was scared. For him? _Of_ him? “James?”

That’s when he noticed the wetness on his face.

“James…please talk to me.”

“I…” His voice cracked, gaze never leaving hers. James wanted to hold her face in his mind, wanted to clench the image of her so tightly that not even the Soldier’s programming could wipe it away. His heart pounded furiously against his ribcage, the realization that he was voluntarily putting himself back into the shell of the Soldier that had a broken sound escaping him. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

Jemma had her arms wrapped around him in the next moment, his head falling into the crook of her shoulder and his arm wrapped tightly around her back. Slender fingers combed through his hair, lips pressing to his forehead. “Shhh…I’m here James…I’m right here.”

“I-I-I hurt you.” His body shook with silent sobs.

She cupped his face her hands, eyes shining with tears. “Look at me James.”

He fisted the fabric of her shirt, mindful of the bandages and bruises. James couldn’t look at her, though, not with knowing the pain he had yet to inflict on her. He just held her, soaking in the warmth of her skin against his and hoping that maybe…just maybe that could carry on in the Soldier’s mind.

“James…what’s wrong?” Her voice was gentle…soothing even. “You can tell me.”

He remembered that moment in his quarters, when she’d told him nothing he ever did would change the way she looked at him, with startling clarity. Or of their fight in the gym and the sting of her palm on his cheek… which reaction would he receive this time? “You say that now, but that will change once you hear what I’m about to say.”

Jemma stepped back, her mouth opening to question his statement, but closed it quickly. Her eyes widened in fear and disbelief, the realization like a blow to her chest as she took two shaky steps back. “What are you going to do?”

“Something that’ll end this…for good.”

She shook her head. “Tell me.”

“Jemma-”

“Bloody _tell_ me!” She wavered where she stood, hands trembling as tears ran down her cheeks, looking like she did on the Quinjet in the Alps. “I deserve that much…since it seems you’ve already made the decision.”

_“At least talk to her before you do this…she deserves that.”_

He nearly flinched at the pain in her voice, at the echo of Daisy’s words. “The intel on my handlers, their identities, their location, and their plans…the Solider knows all of it.”

She went still, “You want to trigger the Soldier.”

_Fuck_. Her words…the agony reflected in those beautiful pools of hazel was a like a white-hot poker had been driven through his chest. Why couldn’t he stop _hurting_ her? It was as though he couldn’t help himself…

“I’m assuming you want to use one of the containment pods?”

He nodded.

“Okay…” She ran a hand through her hair, the wheels turning in her mind, “well…we should get your arm operational before we do anything.”

“Jemma-” He went to speak and thought better of it.

She flicked her gaze from his arm to his face and she sighed, running a hand through her hair. She came to stand in between in his legs, cupping his face in her hands and resting her forehead against his. “I can’t lose you James…not to…” She swallowed thickly, “not to the Soldier.”

“You won’t lose me…not to him…not to anyone.”

“But I will. The Solider is not _you_ James.” Her smile wobbled. “We’ve both been through enough to know that things don’t go according to plan and I’m afraid for what happens to you once the Soldier is triggered.”

He wanted to say that he hardly ever remembered the things the Soldier has done in the last seven decades, that it wouldn’t hurt him at all…but even he wouldn’t be able to make it sound believable. The programming only faltered when he killed or was tortured and now, he was sure that it was to push the pain, the anger, the fear into him until he would rather be the Winter Soldier than to remember the horrible things he done to others and that had been done to him…

“Those containment pods can hold Inhumans…they can hold the Soldier.”

“I want to be there.”

“No.” He held her gaze. “ _You_ were the Soldier’s last mission…if he sees you- or Daisy for that matter- he will not stop he’s taken you from the base and killed anyone in his way. I…I _can’t_ hurt anyone else.” He brushed a stray tear away. “I’m sorry.”

“I…I understand.” She nodded, “I don’t like it, but I understand.”

A soft knock had them both turning, Fitz giving them a nervous smile. “Can I-?”

James responded with what he hoped was an easy smile. “Yeah.”

Jemma was already moving back, allowing her friend the space to work. She took his hand in hers, running a thumb along his knuckles in a show of comfort as she began talking with Fitz in English too fast and too complex to follow.

This allowed him to think over the memory of the moments before the words had been said. The only location he had to go off of was the biggest port in Russia and one name: Ivanov. Opening his eyes, he tapped Jemma’s hand, who noticed immediately.

“What is it?”

“Could you grab Romanov for me? I need to talk to her.”

Her brows knit together in concern, but she nodded before squeezing his hand and leaving.

The silence returned, Fitz working diligently to repair his arm and James observed. He had to admire the young man’s intelligence and his heart, James not feeling any residual pulses from some of the fried electronics. James watched as he finished the wrist and began to move up the forearm, clearing his throat. “Fitz?”

The engineer pulled up the magnifying goggles and blinked a few times. “Yeah?”

“Did Jemma tell you?”

“Aye, she did.” Fitz responded. “She’s mighty upset with you for it.”

James bit back a sigh. “Can you keep an eye on her?”

The man seemed to understand what he was asking: keep Jemma from the Soldier, and nodded.

Romanov came in moments later, motioning for Fitz to continue his work and holding a pad of paper and a pen in her hand. She stood where Jemma had, resting her hip against the bed. Flipping to a clean sheet, she then spoke in Russian. _“Names?”_

_“One former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and a Russian named Ivanov.”_

She pursed her lips. _“Training?”_

_“The agent only appeared over intercom. Ivanov is either former GRU or SVU.”_  He flexed his hand, _“Ivanov is also called Superior and he seems to have a particular hatred for the Enhanced, especially Inhumans…they also have the journal.”_

Her pen paused, a flash of anger flitting across her eyes. _“Trigger words?”_

He gave her a small nod. _“Do you remember them?”_

Reluctantly, she nodded as well. _“Anything else?”_

_“Rebecca?”_

She briefly placed her hand on his arm, _“S.H.I.E.L.D. moved her to a secure location once you were revealed as the Winter Soldier. As of yesterday, she is safe.”_

The image of a young Rebecca with a dimpled smile flashed through his mind and he was awash with relief. He knew better than to ask where his sister was, taking comfort in Natasha’s ( _Natalia’s)_ words. _“Have you talked to Steve?”_

She lifted a single eyebrow in a _you’re-kidding-_ look. 

He pursed his lips. _“Get him for me?”_

She nodded, standing up and leaving as quietly as she’d come.

James was left to the silence once more, flicking his gaze to Fitz, who was now about halfway up the forearm. What had been completed looked as new as the day it’d been forcibly attached to him. He was glad _most_ of that particular experience seemed to be missing from his tattered memories of that time… The light gate of Steve stopped that train of thought and he looked up as his friend walked through the door with concern in his expression.

“Nat said you wanted to talk?”

With another quick glance at Fitz, James slipped into the Italian of his youth. “ _When’s he’s finished with the arm, I’ve asked Romanov to trigger the Soldier.”_

Steve’s jaw clenched.

“ _The Soldier will have the information needed to find my…captors.”_

_“You didn’t bother consulting me about this?”_  His blue eyes were hard.

His own voice was weary as he replied. “ _Because I knew what your reaction would be Stevie.”_

The old name had his friend’s whole demeanor softening…only slightly. _“There are so many ways this could go Buck…very few of them good. I…”_ His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, the muscles of his body taunt with restrained anger for a couple of seconds before everything dissolved with a sigh that sounded as tired as James felt. _“I know the toll it takes on you. It just hurts me to see you like that.”_

_“We need that information.”_  He swallowed thickly, the residual panic from earlier having him take a shaky breath. _“I don’t like this anymore than you do.”_

_“Are you sure that…the information is there?”_

_“The Soldier remembers everything.”_ It took James a moment to realize he’d spoken the sentence in the Russian, the words said to him dozens of times by handlers over the decades. He knew Steve didn’t miss the hollowness in his voice.

He nodded, “How soon?”

It took Fitz a moment to realize that Steve had been asking him. “Two to three hours.”

James smiled grimly. “Then let’s get goin’.”


	29. Right Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter and I hope you guys enjoy!

Jemma watched from a tablet screen as James was shut into a containment pod, Daisy's hand tightly grasped in hers. As per his instructions, only Steve and Natasha were in the room. Jemma could see the rigid set of Steve's shoulders as he stood with his arms at his side, James donning the same stance on the other side of the glass.

She felt like she was watching an execution.

"You ready?" Natasha asked, taking a tablet from Steve.

James nodded, the plates in metal arm shifting and realigning.

Jemma closed her eyes, remembering their last interaction…

_Jemma wheeled herself into the pod right as Fitz left with his tools and over to where James sat, resting a hand on his knee. She smiled when she met his gaze, as intense as ever, reaching up with her other hand to cup his jaw. "Hey."_

_He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment._

_She watched him, her chest aching at the thought of what was about to happen. A blush crawled across her cheeks as he pressed a kiss to her palm, eyes a pale shade of blue. Jemma knew he was trying to distract her from upcoming events, but she said nothing when his lips crashed against hers._

_Her hands found his hair, tangling in the soft strands as she tried to pull herself as close as possible. She gasped as his teeth tugged on her bottom lip, James taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Jemma could taste alcohol on his tongue, no doubt Natasha’s famous vodka, and debated about having a drink after everything was said and done…_

_James pulled away, mouth swollen and pupils blown wide, a lazy smirk curling his lips. “We’ll continue this after this is all over?”_

_Jemma could see something lingering in his eyes, yet she smiled, replying breathlessly. “Yeah.”_

Daisy’s hand squeezing hers, abruptly pulled Jemma from the memory and into the nightmare that was currently her reality. She didn’t take her eyes from James, the first word leaving Natasha’s mouth,

“ _Zhelaniye_.”

She tightened her hold on Daisy.

“ _Rzhavyy_.”

James hung his head, fists clenched at his sides.

“ _Semnadtsat’_.”

“ _Rassvet._ ”

James staggered, clutching at his head as he fell to his knees, and Jemma faintly heard a choked sound break free of her throat as tears welled up in her eyes. The words were hurting him…

“ _Pech’._ ”

She flinched as he screamed, like he was being wiped all over again…

“ _Devyat.”_

She turned her face into Daisy’s shoulder, his cries of pain merely muffled by her free hand as it covered her ear. Jemma had seen too many clips of the things that had been done to him and although this was by his own choice, she couldn’t bring herself to watch.

_“Dobroserdechnyy_.”

“ _Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu…”_

His screams were fading into whimpers.

_“Odin.”_

_“Gruzovoy vagon.”_

Silence followed the last word and Jemma watched as he slowly stood up. It was eerie, almost haunting to see the Winter Soldier standing there instead of James, and Jemma was horrified by how just a sequence of words could do that to him.

“ _Soldat?”_ Nastasha asked, not stepping back as the Soldier walked up to the glass.

_“YA gotov otvechat'.”_ Was his reply.

She looked over to the side of the screen, watching as the translation came on the screen: Ready to comply. Jemma couldn’t contain the tears as they trailed from her cheeks, remembering those words vividly from her time undercover. With those three words, Hydra took away a person’s choice…their free will. Even though she didn’t know Russian, the flat, almost empty tone, chilled her.

“Current mission parameters.”

“Obtain Doctor Jemma Simmons with minimal harm. Kill Daisy Johnson.” He blinked, eyes flicking to the cameras and Steve.

Jemma saw Daisy go still, eyes falling shut as a rattled breath slipped out, and she was really glad that Daisy was sitting next to her instead of down there. She squeezed her hand in comfort. “You okay?”

Daisy nodded.

“What was Doctor Simmons’ purpose?” Natasha asked.

“Information on Inhumans and leverage against S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Phil Coulson.”

Daisy and Jemma shared a glance. James had figured out the leverage thing earlier, but why the focus on the Inhumans? Hydra usually wanted to control those with power, not kill them. Although, Daisy seemed to be more trouble than she was worth as far as they were concerned…

“Information for who?”

“Watchdogs.”

Jemma felt Daisy go completely rigid, her eyes steely as vibrations shook the tablet. She reached out to her friend, and it wasn't until her nails nearly broke skin that Daisy took a deep breath and reigned in her powers. She tried to distract her friend. "Why would Watchdogs work with Hydra? Their views on powered individuals are polar opposites."

Daisy glanced at her, then at the tablet. "The Winter Soldier is a means to an end. Once he outlived his purpose in their eyes, he'd been killed right alongside Inhumans."

"I would think Hydra would want him back?"

"Barnes destroyed every Chair he could get his hands on." She shook her head, "Without that, Hydra's conditioning is holding less and less, so he might not be worth the risk."

"Those damn words seem to work."

Daisy looked over at her. "Yeah well, they need to be able to contain him as long as they're being said...and I think that is easier said than done." She smiled. "Besides, Barnes was able to give me the Watchdogs' leader's name before this...I just didn't know it was the Watchdogs."

Jemma sensed her friend's eagerness, worried that her (reasonable) vendetta could get her into serious trouble. She put a hand on Daisy's knee, motioning to the screen "We should probably keep listening."

"Who are your handlers, Solider?"

"Anton Ivanov and..." He hesitated, "a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent."

Both Daisy and Jemma exchanged a shocked glance. _S.H.I.E.L.D.?_

"Name?"

"Unknown."

Daisy was already pulling up a list of SHIELD agents that _hadn't_ come back for various reasons like injury, retirement, MIA, or just plain they didn't want to work with S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore. The list was up to almost a hundred. "Filter out anything below Level 7?"

"Good idea," Jemma nodded, "he or she knows about Coulson."

"That brings down the list to a little over fifty." Daisy looked at the list.

Natasha's voice pulled their attention back to the interrogation. "Reason as to why you were unable to obtain identity."

"Name never spoken."

_Smart_ , Jemma thought. What better way to cover your tracks than to throw someone else under the bus. "Were all Hydra traitors accounted for?"

She shook her head, "The few left have gone into hiding...I don't think they'd risk exposure."

"Sex of second handler."

"Male."

Daisy smiled as she filtered the information through. "Married and moved to Spain...married and moved to Mexico...job at Stark Tech..." With each reason, she removed a name from the list. "That leaves only...six more." Tapping the screen a few times, Daisy swiped up, sending the information the tablet Natasha was holding.

She glanced down, holding the screen up. "Which one?"

"Last."

Daisy pulled up the last name: Agent Felix Blake.

….....................................................................

Jemma watched Daisy, Coulson, and May talk animatedly on the other of her door, wishing she was a better lip reader. She sighed, looking down at her hands, wondering why Blake would shack up with the Watchdogs and use a Hydra-created Asset. He had been permanently crippled by Mike Peterson's Deathlok weaponry. So maybe that was why...

There was a light knock on the door, pulling Jemma from her reverie. "Come in."

Natasha stepped into the room.

Wetting her lips, Jemma asked, "How is he?"

"The sedatives will wear off shortly." She replied with a small smile. "He will be himself."

"So now what?"

Natasha glanced back, sighing as Steve started in on the conversation. "When they all stop arguing on what we should do, I might have something. Until then, though, you'll just have to be content with James being here."

Jemma nodded, wondering why the woman wouldn’t just go talk to them now. She guessed the assassin had something up her sleeve or she wouldn't have been so...at ease. Then again, would Jemma even be able to tell of there _was_ something wrong? "Could you take me down to him?"

"Of course." She grabbed the wheel chair and unfolded it.

With Natasha's help, she got settled in the wheelchair. The argument seemed to quiet when she was rolled past them and into the elevator.

"You got it from here?"

Jemma nodded. "I have it, thanks."

"Okay."

The doors slid shut and Jemma pushed the button to go down, the thirty second trip down feeling like forever. She got out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened, stopping only to punch in the code for the containment pod.

She waited behind the second set of doors, not wanting to startle James.

He awoke five minutes later, slowly getting to his feet with a hand to his temple, his body stiff and sluggish like something had been driven into his skull...which Jemma assumed was what being wiped might've felt like.

Jemma waited until he'd sat down on the bed before opening the door.

It was a testament to just much it had hurt that he didn't immediately snap to attention...or maybe he already knew it was her...

She stopped at the edge of the bed, using it get out of the wheelchair and inch over to him. Her entire body protested the movement, her back beginning to throb painfully as her muscles flexed under the burned skin. Gingerly, Jemma lowered herself until she was sitting close enough to feel the heat of him.

His skin was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat, his flesh hand trembling even as it curled into a tight fist. He finally turned to look at her as she gently laid a hand on his wrist, his pulse erratic. James' eyes had never looked so...dull.

"James?"

He blinked, a moment passing before he seemed to focus on her. "Jemma..."

"Yeah," She watched his shoulders slump and his head fall into hands, defeated in a way Jemma hadn't seen since the Alps. Her heart nearly broke as his whole body shook and she ran her fingers through his damp and tangled hair, ribs aching as he leaned into her touch. "I'm here."

"Did I hurt anyone?"

"No." She shook her head, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as she blinked back her own tears. "No, you didn't."

"Did you get the information you needed?"

"Yes." She swallowed as his lips grazed her throat, the gesture more comfort than anything. The tears finally broke free as he fisted the fabric of her gown in his hands, the warmth of his tears dripping onto her shoulder.

Jemma wasn't sure how long she held him to her, but it enough time that the pain meds were beginning to wear off. She hissed as the burns on her back sent a sharp pain down her spine, James noticing immediately and sitting up straight, his eyes alert and concerned.

"What's wrong?"

"The medication's wearing off is all." She swallowed as the pain flared up. "Could you get me to my wheelchair and up to my room?"

He nodded, lifting her gently in his arms and depositing her in the chair.

 It was nearly silent as they took the elevator up and he wheeled her to the room, where Bobbi was waiting with another around of medication and new bandages. The blonde had her sit in the nearby stool, glancing at James as she went to untie the gown.

Jemma blushed, but shook her head. She needed him there.

Bobbi put in the IV, waiting until the meds kicked in before she untied the gown and began to remove the bandages. She took James' hands, squeezing them tightly while she choked back screams. Jemma instead concentrated on his voice as her murmured to her in every language he spoke, pushing back the pain as much as she was able.

Jemma sagged into him as the last bandage was applied, faintly registering Bobbi’s hands deftly wrapping fresh gauze over the bandages and tying her gown as she listed to the steady beating of James’ heart.

Bobbi got her settled into the bed and adjusted the IV before tucking her into the sheets, throwing away the used bandages, and leaving her and James to their privacy.

“Jemma?”

She turned her head to look at him, frowning at the agonized expression on his face. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry…about not telling you.”

Jemma shook her head, the morphine making everything a little fuzzy. “You had to…the intel really was important.” She smiled sleepily at him, “You wouldn’t done that by choice had it not been. I’m sorry I got upset-”

He squeezed her hand, “Don’t apologize for a reasonable reaction.”

She ran her thumb along the inside of his wrist, following the blue lines beneath the skin. She gently rotated his hand, the knuckles bruised and scabbed over, making Jemma wonder if he’d taken a swing at the wall or the window of the containment pod. “How’s your head?”

“No worse than usual.”

Jemma shook her head, “Seriously James…”

“Seriously Jemma, I’m okay. Honestly.” The smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes. “That was probably one of the better times…at least from what I can remember.”

_James…_ She forced the tears back as she squeezed his hand. The horrible thing about it was that it _was_ one of the better times. Jemma had seen him strapped down, beaten, drugged, shot… _God_. The tears broke free at the thought of what it must’ve taken for the words to finally stick.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers and cupping her jaw in a cool metal hand. James brought their lips together in a chaste, comforting kiss. He pulled back enough for his breath to fan her face, “I’m right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on the next chapter now so until next time :)


	30. A Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, another chapter...sorry about the wait!! Enjoy...

“Jemma…”         

She opened her eyes slowly at the murmuring voice, registering the warm hand wrapped around hers. Turning her head, Jemma saw a slumped over James. She didn’t see anyone else in the room besides him, quickly realizing it was he who had spoken. Jemma squeezed his hand, “James?”

Surprisingly, he didn’t wake up from the movement, which was odd considering just how much of a light sleeper he was. His body twitched and he was muttering something that Jemma thought sounded like Russian, but he didn’t wake up. His hold tightened and he continued to mumble. His face scrunched up in pain “ _Nyet…nyet…_ stop… _please_.”

She wanted to wake him from whatever nightmare plagued him but knew that it would be more harmful than helpful. Jemma thought back to the occasions that James had been startled, one of them ending with the barrel of a gun pressed to her forehead. Worrying her lip, she squeezed his hand even tighter, nails digging into his skin hard enough to draw blood. “James.”

He snapped awake with a gasp, his eyes a startling shade of grey.

Jemma held her breath, her other fingers hovering over the call button… “James?”

His smile was brittle, “Hey, Jemma.”

Jemma almost sighed in relief. She wanted to ask if everything was okay, but she knew that to be a very stupid question. He’d just allowed himself to be completely overtaken by the Soldier and nearly killed both her and Daisy. Jemma just squeezed his hand in response and returned with a small smile of her own, not really knowing what to say.

The door sliding open had them on alert, both relaxing as Bobbi entered with clean bandages and an apologetic expression. “Sorry to spoil the mood, but I need to change your wrappings.”

Jemma wanted to comment that the mood hadn’t been all that great to begin with, but decided against it as James helped her over to the stool and crouched in front of her with the ever-present guilt swimming in his pale eyes.

The redressing passed in a blur of pain, and by the time Bobbi left, Natasha came in shortly after, her face its usual mask of calm as she watched as James helped Jemma back into the bed. She didn’t say anything until James cocked an eyebrow. “We located their base of operations.”

His expression hardened. “Where?”

“Ivanov Oil Platform…located in the Gulf of Finland about 180 kilometers Northwest of Kotlin Island.” She handed him a tablet, “In the '50s, the Soviets built top-secret submarine refueling stations under oil drilling platforms. This is one of them.”

James muttered something Russian under his breath that brought an amused tilt to the Widow’s lips, thumbing through the pages and freezing as he looked at the pictures of the inside of a submarine docked there. He handed the tablet back, “This is where I was kept.”

“So what’s the plan?” Jemma looked up at Natasha.

“Daisy is going to call in the Secret Warriors. We’re set to leave in two days’ time.”

_So soon?_ Jemma glanced at James, seeing his jaw tighten. She didn’t want to doubt him, but she was afraid of how badly the triggering had been for him. Ivanov and Blake had those words too and had shown no hesitation in using them to control the Soldier…they would do it again. “The words?”

“I’ve contacted an ally who will be able to help with that. They’ll be here in…” she glanced down at the tablet, “within the hour.”

Jemma was confused when James narrowed his eyes, “That girl’s been through enough-”

There was a ghost of a smile on Natasha’s lips, “She offered.”

“Diggin’ around in my head will be dangerous…for both of us.”

Natasha shrugged. “She’s stubborn Barnes, you know as well as I do she won’t be swayed.”

He cursed in Russian, more exasperated than angry, and ran the metal hand down his face with a sigh. He glanced at Natasha, then Jemma. James’ gaze pierced her, seeming to read her innermost thoughts. He must’ve seen the fear and the worry because he squeezed her hand gently, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back alright? Gotta talk to Steve.”

Jemma frowned but nodded as he left.

Natasha remained in the room, taking James’ place in the chair. “You can trust her.”

“Who?”

“My ally. You can trust her…she won’t hurt him.”

The thought of trusting this unknown person- this _girl_ …James had called her a girl- hadn’t crossed her mind until that moment. Jemma knew that anyone the Black Widow trusted was the real deal. The issue came with every video, every report, and every nightmare where she’d witnessed other’s violently tearing into his head. “Not intentionally.”

Green eyes held hers. “His programming wasn’t a pleasant process Jemma, going through those memories will be like living through that time all over again. Regardless of the approach, there will always be pain. You understand that right?”

“I’m just tired of people messing with his head.”

“I’ve been where he’s been.” Shadows passed over the woman’s features, like a phantom haunting a dark room. “I don’t particularly like it either, but after this…those words will no longer have a hold on him.”

Jemma nodded. “Who is she? Your ally?”

“Wanda Maximoff.”

Jemma blinked, surprised and a little irritated at herself that she hadn’t put the pieces together since. Wanda Maximoff had been working alongside the Avengers since Sokovia happened and she’d lost her twin brother in the aftermath until the recent events that had taken place in Lagos only weeks before Steve and James had stumbled onto their base sent the young woman into hiding. “How is she doing?”

“As well as can be expected…she’s been staying with Barton.” The redhead’s eyes flicked to the dog tags with an unreadable emotion. “She’ll probably want to talk to you.”

“Me? Why?”

There was tilt to her mouth when she shrugged that Jemma didn’t like.

She hated being out of the loop.

A knock on the glass drew Jemma’s attention and she smiled as Daisy came in, her crutches clicking on the floor in unison. Natasha slipped out of the room as quietly as she’d come in, probably to talk to James and Steve. “Hey, Daisy.”

“Hey.” She follows Jemma’s gaze, “What was that about?”

“She was telling me about the plan.”

Daisy shook her head, “There’s something else…Jemma?”

“Did she say anything about bringing an ally in?” Jemma’s voice was hesitant, wondering if she was supposed to say anything about Wanda and her role in the plan. “Someone who could help James?”

“No,” Daisy shook her head, “she just told me to call in the Secret Warriors.”

“She’s bringing in Wanda Maximoff to get rid of the trigger words.”

It took a moment for Daisy to process the information, eyes widening in surprise. “I guess that answers where she’s been all this time…” Her friend read her expression, understanding dawning. “You’re afraid of something going wrong.”

Jemma shook her head, “Something going right.”

Daisy frowned, “Now I’m confused.”

“What if…” Jemma worried her lip, “What if after he remembers everything he did...all the people hurt him and all the ones he killed…what if he pushes me away?” It wasn’t an unwarranted fear in her opinion. In the beginning, he tried so many times to shut her out, to push her away for her own safety out of fear of him ever harming her.

“Jemma…” Daisy took her hand. “he loves you too much-”

“He’ll push me away _because_ he loves me, Daisy…he’s done it before.”

“Yet you’re still together.” Daisy smiled. “I know you too well Jemma. You have fought for him at every turn and this time will be no different…plus I’ll go all Quake on his ass.”

“Daisy!” Jemma laughed despite everything, her body protesting the movement.

“What!?” Daisy grinned, “I would.”

“That would definitely be interesting to see.” Said an unfamiliar accented voice from the doorway.

Both turned to see a pale, dark-haired young woman with a small smile.

Wanda Maximoff.

“Jemma Simmons I presume?”

………………………………………………………………………….

Daisy had left soon after when Joey and Elena arrived, leaving Jemma with Wanda. It was silent for a minute or so, the two women just watching each other with expressions more curious than anything else.

Jemma realized then why James had called her a “girl”…she couldn’t have been any older than twenty-one or twenty-two years old. The round pale green eyes added to the effect, but Jemma could see that she, like James, had aged beyond her years. She wondered if that’s what Hydra did to people: drain anything youthful from them until all that was left was a hard, hollow shell full of ghosts.

Wanda smiled sadly, “I see that in you as well Jemma…”

The scientist had forgotten for a moment that the woman standing in front of her could read her thoughts. _Damnit…_ Jemma cleared her throat, ignoring the ache in her chest at Wanda’s words, “I’m sorry, I-”

“An innocent observation, I didn’t mean to pry.” She motioned to the chair, “May I?”

“Of course.” Jemma pushed herself up into a sitting position, glad for the painkillers.

Wanda’s gaze caught the gleam of the dog tags, “He gave those to you?”

Jemma swallowed and nodded, the woman’s eyes a little unnerving. “Yeah, he did.”

“You’re worried something will…go right?” She cocked her head to the side, confusion clear.

“James has a habit of pushing me away when parts of his past have come to light.” Jemma swallowed, itching to reach for the tags. “I don’t want to lose him…over something that will never change how I feel about him.”

“He does wonder why you’ve stuck by him,” Wanda said a minute later, playing with the multiple rings on her fingers with a far-off look as she sat down in the chair. “He feels as though he has hurt you too often to say he loves you.”

Jemma felt a pang in her chest, “I never held those times against him.”

“Nor do I, but we are often our own worst enemies.” A tangle of red energy wove around her twirling fingers, a faint light of the same color pulsing in her eyes for only a moment before she blinked it away. “I killed twenty-one people in Lagos and one hundred and seventy-seven in Sokovia. No matter the circumstances or reasoning…those deaths are on me. _Pietro’s_ death is on me.” Her voice cracked on her twin’s name, “I will never stop blaming myself for them…so I can understand James in that regard.”

“Can you do it…return the memories?”

“I should able to…but it’s not like people allow me in their heads on a regular basis.” The energy around her hand dissipated completely and she looked at Jemma with a sadness. “With a mind such as his…I can’t promise perfect results.”

Jemma nodded, bitterness creeping into her tone. “I know better than to expect them.”

Wanda’s smile was hollow, “Let’s get started then.”

……………………………

Watching James and Wanda enter the containment pod had Jemma thinking back to the intentional triggering of the Soldier. She couldn’t take her eyes off of James, who seemed both unwilling and resigned. She couldn’t even take comfort from Daisy’s arm wrapped around her…

James laid down on a bed in the center of the room, barefoot and dressed in loose black sweats and a T-shirt. His arms rested at his sides, the metal arm equipped with a localized EMP that would be activated if he made any move towards Wanda.

“Are you ready?”

“As I can be.” He turned his head, holding Jemma’s stare.

The question was obvious: _Are_ you _ready?_

Jemma nodded, eyes never leaving him as he turned his head away and closed his eyes. She ached with the need to be right there next to him, to be there while he own personal hell was drudged up from the tattered recesses of his mind and to show him, once and for all, that she was never going to leave him…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any mention of places in Russia (landmarks, islands, distances, etc.) is taken from research and may not be wholly accurate...so apologies.
> 
> Until next time...


	31. Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no words to explain why its taken me so long to update and I apologize for anyone who's been waiting this whole time. I thank anyone who is still with me and those who are new for your support. My plan is to finish this fic before Infinity War comes out so...I plan on updating as soon as another chapter is posted. Enjoy!

Three hours and forty-seven minutes.

It had been three hours and forty-seven minutes since Wanda had gone into James’ head and Jemma hated how she wished something would happen…that one of the would move or make a sound whether it was good or not…

She ignored the throbbing pain in her body that felt like one agonizing heartbeat after another, her fingers white-knuckled around the armrests of the wheelchair as Jemma pushed it down as much as she was able. There were worse things than physical pain…

“Jemma…” Daisy’s hand rested on the back of the wheelchair, concern clear in her tone and in the reflection on the window of the containment pod, “You need your wrappings changed and another round of pain meds. I can see that you’re in-”

She cut her off, “I’m fine Daisy.”

A bruised hand gently uncurled her fingers, “No, you’re not.”

The sudden heat of anger welled up in her for just a moment, a spark of warmth in her hollow chest that felt _so_ much better than the cold compartmentalization and the numbing grief that had been her constant companions on and off the last few days.

Jemma stopped herself short of biting Daisy’s head off. Her friend was just concerned about her, like everyone else on this base…like him. She had no right to hold that against her, not when she practically threw herself at the Soldier to protect Daisy and her friend had still nearly died in the process…

She stopped that train of thought, worrying her lip, “I’m not leaving him.”

Daisy hummed, looking over at James and Wanda. “You know you need to have your wrappings changed in a sterile environment or you’ll risk infection…” She sighed when Jemma didn’t move, “He wouldn’t want you in pain for his sake…you know that right?”

Jemma nodded.

Daisy reached over and grabbed a tablet, fingers flying over the pod’s touchpad.

Jemma hadn’t really registered her friend’s movement and instead returned her gaze back to the containment pod. The eerie crimson energy floating between her fingers and around James’ head was like smoke and leaving her to wonder if the memories of that time were being burned away or if Wanda was only fanning the flames…

“I just sent their vitals to this tablet.” Daisy set the device on Jemma’s lap and watched as she rapidly tapped at the screen, “It has EEG, EKG, audio-visual feed, and…well, everything you need to keep an eye while you’re getting the changing done. Will that be enough?”

Jemma went to shrug, wincing as her shoulder and back protested.

“Okay…does that mean I can take you up to Bobbi?”

She spared another glance, then nodded.

Daisy slowly pushed the wheelchairs towards the elevator, only a slight hesitation in her stride showing that her leg was bothered by the movements. She said nothing more as she pushed the up button, drawing Jemma’s attention to the familiar pattern of bruising on both of Daisy’s hands.

Jemma felt guilt settle in her stomach. Thinking back to the fight between her and the Soldier, she realized that Daisy, like her, had been wearing civilian clothing due to the fact that they had thought the threat long gone. There hadn’t even been a moment for her to put on her gauntlets and the amount of force that I would take to pretty much throw the Winter Soldier around… “How are your hands?”

Daisy grinned, “Not as bad as they were yesterday.”

Jemma sighed, craning her head as much as she was able, “ _Daisy_ …”

“ _Relax_ …” Daisy returned the sigh with a fond smile, “I’m taking my bone growth pills and everything. Nothing to worry about.”

“Your leg?”

She raised an eyebrow, “I’m walking aren’t I?”

Jemma returned the gesture, “You shouldn’t even be putting weight on it, you’re risking-”

“ _further tearing_ I know.” Daisy harrumphed, “So you and Bobbi and Lincoln keep saying. If it were up to you three, I would be confined to a bed.”

“That’s not always a bad thing, Daisy.”

Daisy snorted, “Says the one in the wheelchair.”

Jemma managed a smile, falling silent as the elevator doors slid open and Daisy pushed into the medical lab where both Bobbi and Natasha were waiting with identical weary expressions. It was hard seeing those emotions in the two women in front of her, some of the strongest women she knew… this last few weeks _had_ been hard on everyone…

With the help of Natasha (Bobbi had forced Daisy to sit), Jemma lowered herself into the chair and stayed still as the ties were loosened and the gown slipped down her arms. She closed her eyes as the gauze wrapped around her chest was removed, bracing herself as the tape around the bandages was pulled off slowly.

Natasha took her hands once more, this time singingly a haunting melody that sounded a lot like a lullaby of some kind. Her voice never wavered or hesitated when Jemma would gasp and break skin with her nails.

Jemma’s vision blurred with tears when the pain finally faded in the wake of her cocktail of medication and the gown was tied securely around her once more. She blinked them away to focus on the redhead in front of her, the bleeding crescents on the woman’s hands bringing an apology bubbling out, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

The quirk of her lips was barely noticeable, “I’ve had worse.”

Jemma wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep or the number of pain meds in her system or the stress of the last few weeks had had on her, but she couldn’t help but laugh at the words. She saw the concern in Bobbi and Daisy’s eyes when she said, “Haven’t we all?”

Piercing, overlapping screams from the tablet washed over the room like ice.

Every head snapped toward the device, except Jemma’s.

She didn’t need to look. She already knew what was happening.

_“Wipe him…”_

_“I remember all of them…”_

_“Mission report…”_

_“I’ll come back to you Jemma…I promise.”_

_“Ready to comply…”_

_“Tá grá agam duit.”_

Jemma tightly shut her eyes. _Why had she wanted to hear this?_

She was faintly aware of Natasha’s hands as they took hers once more, squeezing gently as the pained cries increased in volume and frequency with both of the occupants of the pod. Jemma couldn’t speak, her jaw clenched as she felt a scream building up behind her teeth.

Natasha’s voice cut through the noise, “Turn it off.”

All the tension left Jemma as silence once again filled the room, grateful when no one said anything more. Natasha and Daisy helped her back into her wheelchair, the latter leaning down to whisper, “Do you want to go back to your room?”

Jemma’s fingers found the chain around her neck, her thumb running over the letters and numbers as she met each set of eyes in the room. Even though the concern was clear (in different ways) in every face, she was still conflicted.

There was a part of her, a _large_ part, which had remained largely in control up until this point. It was that stupidly stubborn loyalty that refused to leave another’s side regardless of the sleep it cost her or the pain that broke off a little bit of her each time. It reminded her of the nights on the rooftop and the weeks spent searching through decades of files and that he had given himself over to protect her and Steve…that it was the least she could do to stay with him while he went through this. After all, she’d promised him she wouldn’t leave him again…

But there was another part of her that appeared to Jemma as a terrified child that had taken one too many blows and trembled at the arm winding back…at the thought of further pain. It listed off her injuries and calculated the small number of hours she’d actually slept in those weeks, even going as far as to bring to previous nightmares to the front of her mind. It told her that James wouldn’t want her anywhere near him while the Solider was so close to the surface…

The latter won out and Jemma nodded.

“Okay,” Daisy’s smile was brittle, “do you want me to bring the tablet?”

She nodded, appeasing that stubbornness.

“You sure?”

“Do you have Doctor Who on there?”

“Do I?” Daisy snorted, tapping on the screen and spinning it around, “Classic or Reboot?”

“Classic…definitely the classic series.” Jemma’s smiled widened as Daisy’s face scrunched up, remembering the conversation they’d had in the weeks before Steve and James had shown up and how the hacker had much preferred the newer _color_ episodes to the old black and white ones. “The black and white will grow on you, I promise.”

She sighed, “I guess…come on then.”

Daisy was silent as the doors slid shut, the only sound being the humming of the elevator as it took them up a couple floors. She rolled her to her room, helping her get comfortable in her bed before connecting the tablet to the ceiling projector Jemma had installed months back for this exact reason and turning down the lights.

Jemma curled into Daisy’s side, the familiar (and long memorized) dialogue was a comfort she hadn’t known was missing until now. It was something nostalgic that reminded her of the mornings sitting in her father’s lap…before she’d ever heard of S.H.I.E.L.D….

Ian and Barbara had just pushed themselves into the TARDIS when Daisy stiffened, pausing the episode and staring intently at the door before looking at Jemma and motioning with her head as if to ask _will you be alright?_

It took Jemma no time at all to figure out who was on the other side of the door and she was quick to nod, pushing herself up into a sitting position as Daisy eased herself off the bed and hopped over to open the door.

He was nervous, steel blue eyes flitting from Daisy to her and the plates in his arms shifting. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, making Jemma wonder just how her friend was looking at for him to be so visibly shaken.

“Daisy, let him in.”

Smiling dark eyes look back at her before moving aside, “I’ll leave you two then.”

Like Steve, James looked unsure of whether or not he should help her as she limped out of the room. It took a couple of seconds for him to actually enter the room, the door automatically shutting behind him.

She patted the empty space, “You can sit if you want.”

Again, it took a moment for him to actually approach the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress, one leg tucked under him, keeping as much distance between them as he could...like he didn’t want to hurt her…

The bruising around her neck throbbing faintly at the memory his hand wrapped around her throat, the scariest part about that being that there had been no discernable trigger…no turning point that she could identify that would cause him to lash out… Jemma made no comment about any of it though, “How did everything go?”

“Well…” he looked down at his metal arm, “I don’t think I’ll ever remember everything, but knowing that those damn words are gone is all that I could’ve hoped for. Wanda said she’s fine, but…” he ran a hand down his face, “I guess that’s all I’ll get from her.”

Even after spending only a couple minutes with the girl, Jemma saw just how alike she and James were. Both experiments of Hydra, neither voiced much about the horrors they’d gone through and were good at hiding the damage behind stoic masks or forced smiles. Jemma wanted to reach out to him at the thought, but given the distance he’d put between them, she thought better of it, “You’ll be good to go then?”

He sighed, “I’ll be good when all of this shit is finally over.”

Jemma watched the tick in his jaw and the shadows flicker behind his eyes, remembering the haunted look when they’d walked through the bodies at the Alps base and wondering just how ‘good’ everything would be when everything was said and done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next time...


	32. Going Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you guys go! Enjoy!
> 
> WARNING: Panic attack occurs in this chapter.

The next two days for Jemma were so full of tension and stress she was surprised she’d gotten any sleep. Everyone else didn’t seem to be better off, Daisy especially. Her friend, like her, would be stuck back on base while Elena, Joey, and Lincoln went to the oil rig. Jemma herself, she knew, would be more of a burden being as she wasn’t as trained as all the others and she was secretly glad her friend was with her instead of going to a place where’d she’d immediately have a target on her back.

Jemma was thankful for Fitz, who’d let her sit with him in the lab while he updated weaponry as well as made last minute change’s to James’ arm. The last part she knew was as much for him as it was her. Fitz wouldn’t let anyone out in the field without triple-checking everything, even if it was James’ arm or Natasha’s Widow Bites and that he didn’t want Jemma worrying about anyone (about James) more than she already was…

James, after that night, had put more physical distance between them. He was focused on the mission ahead, spending hours at the shooting range or sparring with Steve and Natasha and going over the details with Coulson. 

It was currently fifteen minutes until departure and Jemma was packing up the ICERs and their cartridges up in a black case that she knew would be sent up with the other weapons when the doors slid open the familiar sound of small metallic plates had her turning around in her chair.

He was like a shadow, his one-sleeved combat vest, pants, and combat boots all black while his metal arm refracting the bright lights of the lab (glad to see that Fitz had gone and gotten rid of the Soviet star). There were an innumerable amount of weapons and explosives strapped to him, yet she stood up as quickly as she was able and wrapped her arms around his waist.

She closed her eyes when he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

They just stood like that for what could’ve been a full two minutes before he pulled away, cupping the back of her head and bringing her mouth up to hers. Jemma grasped at the straps of his vest, ignoring the ache of her shoulder and back as she lost herself in the kiss. She could feel every emotion he poured into it, the love, the devotion, the fear…and she clung to him even as her lungs started to burn from lack of oxygen. She didn’t want to pull away…didn’t want to let go of him for even a second.

“Jemma…” he gently pushed her back, “hey…”

She hadn't realized she was crying until he’d brushed the tears away. Jemma looked up at him, his eyes bluer than she’d ever seen them, reaching up to brush a thumb along his cheek. Her hands fell to rest on his chest and Jemma forced herself to swallow past the lump in her throat, poking him in the chest and speaking as firmly as she could. “You come back to me you here?”

He smiled down at her, a thumb running along her trembling lips, “ _A ghra mo chroi_ …wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She met his stare, “ _Tá grá agam duit.”_

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, _“Tá grá agam duit.”_

Jemma watched him leave with all the cases, hoping that when he came back everything would be done. _Don’t do that,_ that part of her that had whispered so many dark thoughts to her in those months spent on another world, _you know better to hope…after all, when do things ever go the way you want them to?_

She shook the voice vehemently from her mind, sitting down in the wheelchair with a sigh and following James’ path to the Quinjet. Fitz, gratefully, had started pushing her when she passed his lab, cutting down on the amount of time it would have taken her to reach said departure spot by at least half. She got there in time to see Steve and Natasha load the crates, while Daisy and Lincoln shared a kiss, not unlike the one Jemma and James had, the latter smiling down at her friend with such love she felt the moment too private to witness.

Jemma caught James’ eyes right before the ramp lifted, and returned the small smile he gave her. The sound of the ramp closing had her flinching in the chair, and she kept her eyes on the Quinjet until the doors closed behind it.

Daisy was suddenly next to her, “Their flight should take about three hours… so let’s get some shut-eye. Fitz said he’ll wake us up when they call in.”

Jemma nodded, letting herself be rolled back to her room. She took another round of pain meds that would hopefully help sleep through the night, smiling gratefully as Daisy slid into the sheets next to her. She hoped the company…the comfort of another person would help her find some sleep…

She should’ve known better than to hope, Jemma thought as she woke two hours later in a cold sweat, a hand pressed to her throat as the visages of the nightmare faded back into the recesses of her mind. The only thing she could grasp as were the flashes of broken forms laying on the ground and blood-splattered glinting metal…

The lamp turned on, “Jemma…hey, Jemma look at me.”

She knew she was hyperventilating, but drawing a breath seemed so _hard_. Jemma clung tightly to Daisy, gripping her hands in a way that was probably aggravating the microfractures and she hated herself for that being the last thought on her mind right now.

Daisy managed to pull her into a tight hug, pressing Jemma’s ear to her chest. Her heartbeat was steady (like his) and it took her a couple of minutes to finally pull herself out of the nightmare-induced panic, tears soaking into her friend’s tank top.

She said nothing, running gentle fingers through her hair.

“I’m sorry.” Jemma finally broke the silence, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Don’t worry about it, though…” she shrugged, “to be honest…I wasn’t even asleep.”

Jemma worried her lip, reaching for the dog tags like they were an anchor. She looked over at the discarded tablet on the bedside table and sat back, her voice shaking when she finally asked, “Did you want to keep watching Doctor Who?”

Daisy smiled, sensing the need for distraction, “Sure.”

………………………………………………………..

The tablet beeped approximately fifty-one minutes later.

Daisy and Jemma were up and in the lab five minutes later.

Jemma made sure to stay out of her friend’s away as Daisy tapped at the hologram table, pulling up a three dimensional layout of the oil rig (at least what they knew of from a couple of old blueprints prior to the fall of the USSR) with the icons indicating the locations of James, Steve, Natasha, May, Phil, Lincoln, Joey, and Elena.

The number of people gone made the base almost feel…empty.

She watched them split into four groups (Steve and James; Natasha and May; Phil and Lincoln; and Joey and Elena), listening to them as they started to make their way into the oil rig.

Like the Alps mission, everyone seemed to move and fight everyone seamlessly. For a long few minutes, all Daisy, Jemma, and those remaining heard was the _pop pop_ of James’ guns, the ringing of Steve’s shield, and the hissing of Natasha’s Bites and Lincoln’s electricity.

“Main deck’s clear.”

Some of the tension bled out of her shoulders at Steve’s voice.

Daisy leaned forward, “Any sign of Ivanov or Blake?”

“None.”

“Proceeding to the second deck.” Natasha’s voice sounded.

She watched the icons on the hologram all converge on the second level, her stomach dropped as they began to glitch. Jemma leaned forward, bracing herself on the edge of the table as the audio of the comms began to cut out.

“Come in…does anybody read?” Daisy’s voice wavered only slightly. “Do you copy?”

“Copy.” Lincoln’s voice could barely be heard through static, “ther….inter…ence.”

“Be on guard.” Bobbi came behind them, expression unreadable, “They’re nearby.”

“Affi…tive.” May responded, “Goi…dar…five min…tes.”

With trepidation, they watched as all the icons disappeared from the screen, Jemma’s heart pounding against her ribcage so hard she thought the muscle would be bruised by the end of it. She could barely hear any of the conversations going on behind her over the blood rushing in her ears.

_Stupid girl! You should know better than to hope…_

“Let’s get emergency transport up and ready to go now.”

_Hopes and wishes only bring disappointment…_

“Daisy, get this feed transferred to the Zephyr.”

_James will die. You know this. His vendetta will cost him his life…_

“Jemma? You with me?”

She blinked, Fitz’s voice pulling her out of her head. “Yeah?”

“We’re leaving in five.”

Jemma nodded, once again thankful as he rolled her into the aircraft. She buckled herself in, the plane taking off a couple minutes later. She watched Daisy frantically tried to reestablish the connection, while Wanda sat across from with her eyes closed and a faint red glow encasing the clasped hands in her lap.

Jemma watched the woman for any changes in her expression the second the plane lifted, seeing the creases that would form between her eyebrows every couple of seconds and the slight tilt to her head as the energy flared around her hands.

She knew that even if they could get there within the next couple minutes that it would take more than seconds for their entire plan to go sideways and Jemma hated that. She wished they’d taken the Zephyr with them, offering support if need be. Them leaving now was almost pointless…she gripped the dog tags in her hand, the edges digging sharply into her palm.

She wasn't sure how long they were into the flight before Wanda’s eyes snapped open, pulsing with crimson light. She didn’t appear to be looking at anything or anyone in particular, leading Jemma to believe she was not present in the Zephyr, but on the oil rig.

“They split up.” Her voice was far away.

“Who?” Jemma asked.

“Ivanov and Blake.”

Daisy frowned at her, “He’s in a wheelchair…that makes no sense…”

Wanda fell silent for a minute, her head turning left then right, like she was listening...

It was chilling to watch.

Jemma and Daisy shared a look, their expression a mirror image of concern and fear. She tried to figure out why the two would split when one was at such a disadvantage. There was something that they were missing…

“Other Inhumans….there’s more of them…fighting us.”

Daisy froze.

“Former Watchdogs…exposed to Terragenesis.”

“Bloody hell.” Hunter muttered, “Any chance you could shorten our ETA?”

“Not unless someone here can teleport.” Was Mack’s smartass response.

Jemma would’ve paced if she’d been allowed to stand (injuries be damned), but she couldn’t move. There wasn’t anything she could do to help. Communications were down and their team was dealing with combatants with unknown abilities and the only way to stay contacted to them was through the abilities of Scarlet Witch…

_How could this have gone to hell so quickly?_

She instead watched as Fitz and Mack tried to push the Zephyr to go faster, Daisy tapping on the tablet to try and figure out where everyone was (with Wanda’s help). The latter’s information was scattered, pulled from the minds of everyone on the rig from different points of view every couple seconds… Jemma looked over at Bobbi and Hunter, watching Daisy and Wanda with calculating expressions as they too tried to piece together everything that was happening hundreds of miles away.

And then Wanda screamed.

The plane shuddered as everyone jumped, the moment of silence that followed like it was slowly sucking the oxygen out of the air and Jemma held her breath as the woman shuddered, the red glow flickering and fading back into her skin. “Wanda…what happened?”

“There was an explosion…” she shook her head, “I can’t…I can’t feel them…”

Bobbi’s voice somehow remained steady, “What does that mean?”

Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and slumped forward unconscious.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger! I promise to update next so you guys don't have to wait too long! Until next time...


	33. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you guys! Enjoy!

Jemma was unbuckling herself before anything else was said, reaching Wanda just as Bobbi did. She held the woman’s gaze (hoping she would just let her _do_ this…), grateful when the blonde read her expression and instead turned to yell over her shoulder to _steady the plane!_

Wanda’s pulse was thready and she’d gone two shades paler, murmuring in a jumble of English and Sokovian. Her skin was burning to the touch and she flinched away from Jemma when she tried to get a response.

Jemma could only discern that Wanda’s powers, after having been stretched so far and cut off so violently, had lashed back at its user. Other than given her fluids for the exhaustion and ibuprofen to help her with the fever, there wasn’t much she could do…and she _hated_ it. She hated that she feel Mack and Daisy’s pleading questions directed at both her and the unconscious Wanda.

Tears dripped onto red leather, Jemma’s entire body shaking.

Bobbi’s hands were gentle as they pulled away and guided her over to Daisy, who had grown quiet at whatever expression Jemma wore. She rested her head on her friend’s shoulder, burrowing her face into her neck and clinging to her like an anchor and it wasn’t long until Mack made her presence know, one hand curling over her free shoulder.

The three sat in silence, curled around each other and wrapped in the shared fear and worry over those who were…gone as Wanda had put it. Jemma refused to believe that any of them were gone or… _no_ they weren’t. They couldn’t be. They could be unconscious…maybe that was why Wanda couldn’t sense them…

_Who are you kidding?_ That dark voice whispered, _they’re dead…dead and not coming back…_

Jemma clung to the memory of her and James’ parting kiss, Steve’s kind eyes, Natasha’s soothing lullaby, Coulson’s calm, and May’s rare smiles. Images of a smiling Joey, Lincoln, and Elena flashed through her mind as well… She couldn’t lose them… _any_ of them. Jemma knew she wouldn’t ever really come back from that it if it turned out to be true…

Jemma shook her head. She would cross that bridge when it came…or burn it…

Her spiraling thoughts were disrupted by the feeling of the whole aircraft shuddering following a muffled explosion. Everyone was instantly alert and Wanda’s eyes snapped open, the crimson light in her eyes fading just as quickly as it had come.

Against Bobbi’s advice, the girl pulled out the IV and pulled herself up.

Mack hurried to the front of the plane with Fitz, “Uh guys…you might want to see this.”

Feeling returned to her numbed body and Jemma lunged to her feet, only to be stopped by a clammy hand wrapping around her wrist. She turned, seeing Wanda’s haunted dark eyes staring back at her, and found herself frozen once more.

Jemma knew the fear was plain on her face because she was released only a moment later. Yet she didn’t move forward…her gaze still caught in Wanda’s. There was something in those dark depths akin to a warning…a last-ditch effort to protect another from a pain already suffered. The knowledge that this girl had felt the death of her twin at a level no normal person could comprehend was something that Jemma hated to be reminded of at that moment…

“No…”

It was Daisy’s broken voice that finally pulled her away from Wanda, drawing her towards the cockpit. Her hand trembled as she tapped Mack on the shoulder and he moved, her stomach dropping to the floor and her heart lodging itself in her throat at the sight in the ocean below.

She remembered the coverage of the Deepwater Horizon spill, seeing the smoke and fire rising into the sky and billowing across the water…had even watched it sink into the ocean, but she should’ve learned by now that pictures and video had nothing on reality.

The structure was still in flames, dark smoke and bright orange flames engulfing the metal. Part of it was already sinking under the surface and she watched and heard as another explosion sounded, shooting debris into the sky.

Both the Russian Coast Guard and Navy were already there, searching through the wreckage while helicopters hovered way too close for comfort. Water arched from the surrounding ships to quench the fire, a combination of smoke and steam billowing from the cool liquid and warped, heated metal…

_How could anyone survive this?_

“Is there _any_ way they could’ve gotten off without being spotted?”

At Daisy’s question, Jemma turned to Wanda. She was only startled by the hand that took hers once more and squeezed it, feeling a surge of…hope flash through her. She shoved away that dark, cynical voice that only promised death and grief and focused only the hope. If she lost that…well, she knew how that had gone the first time around…

“They live.”

Everyone’s heads snapped in her direction.

“I’m just getting flashes. Those who aren’t unconscious have concussions so it’s a little hard to get a clear picture.” Her eyes glow an eerie crimson before they slipped closed and she slowly tilted her head to the side. “There’s an island and…on the beach there’s…” she winced as though she was in pain, “…an abandoned…”

Daisy was frantically tapping away with the vague info she was getting.

“…it’s a military base…”

Jemma watched to two like a tennis match in the moments that followed, until finally landing Daisy when she flipped the tablet around to show the others the picture of the small weather-torn structure on a beach, “Wanda…tell me this is it.”

She opened her eyes, deep brown once more, and a relieved smile broke out as she nodded.

Jemma could’ve sunk to the floor in relief, but having their location and knowing they were alive wasn’t enough to allow herself that luxury just yet. She made her way closer to see just where their team had ended up. “What is it?”

“Fort Reef. It’s on the northwestern point of Kotlin Island.” Daisy cited, “The military finally abandoned it in 2014 and it’s now a tourist attraction where people can actually enter the base and explore the ruins. The current tour was suspended on account of the explosion, so we _shouldn’t_ have any civilian run-ins.”

“Well then,” Hunter smiled, “Let’s go get out team back.”

……………………………………….

It only took minutes for them to land on the beach, Jemma’s body practically vibrating with nerves as they stepped onto the sand. She took a breath of the cold, salty air and managed to restrain herself as Bobbi, Lance, Mack and, Wanda walked ahead with hands and guns at the ready.

Fitz stayed back with Daisy and Jemma, expression calm and attentive.

Jemma let her head fall on his shoulder, some of the tension fading as he gave her a quick hug. She would always feel bad about pushing him away after Will died, but she was glad that she hadn’t lost their friendship over it.

“Jemma…”

Jemma looked over at Daisy, realizing that the others were entering the base.

The three sped up, following them a bent metal door barely hanging by its hinges.

The white stone was marred by filled cracks and rust stains and the floor was littered with debris and coated in a fine layer of dust. It had obviously been disturbed, though, there were drops of blood spotting the floor as well as smears of soot and ash on the wall.

They were led deeper into the structure, the cool air growing damp as they shuffled down. Wanda’s energy cast an eerie red glow over everything as she held up a hand so they could see while as also acting as a signal to the others that they were friendlies…

Reaching the end of the hall, Bobbi and Hunter lowered their guns.

Jemma squeezed Daisy’s hand tightly as they pushed through them.

She found him immediately, collapsed back against the wall. She was sure she made some kind of noise because his eyes lifted to her. They were pale and glassy with pain and Jemma ran her eyes over to him, quickly finding the injury: his metal arm had been blown off just a little below the shoulder.

Careful not to jostle him, she kneeled next to him. “James…” she lifted a hand to his, leaning forward to press her forehead against his. She squeezed her eyes shut as tears broke free, trying to ignore just how clammy and hot his skin was, and felt his whole body shudder. Jemma pulled back and looked at the exposed wiring, but his hand on her cheek draw her attention away.

“Jemma…it’s alright. I’m alright...just check on the others.”

“But your arm…”

He shook his head, smiling weakly, “S’no blood…I’m fine, sweetheart.”

She frowned but wasn’t able to respond before Fitz was right there.

“I got him Jemma…go help Bobbi.”

Jemma immediately felt guilty as she remembered that there’d been others.

Bobbi was attending to a groggy Coulson and unconscious May, while Mack and Elena spoke in low murmuring voices to each other and Daisy had pulled Lincoln into a tight hug. Joey expression was serious and sad as he leaned against the wall with a clearly broken arm cradled against his chest and he shook his head before she made a move his way, motioning with his chin to Steve and Natasha.

Steve himself had mostly healed from everything from what she could see, with only a torn uniform and dried blood to show for it, but Natasha seemed near unconscious as she slumped against his chest. The bright red dripping through the hands pressed to the piece of warped metal protruding from her stomach had Jemma nearly running over to her to better see what was going on…

He looked up when she knelt down, blue eyes swimming with guilt, “She was hit with shrapnel when getting Coulson and the others out. I tried to shield her the best I could, but…”

Jemma stood for only a moment to see the supersoldier’s back riddled with familiar chromed metal and glass splinters. Logically, she knew there was no danger of infection, but she still worried. “Steve…you need to get those removed…”

“Natasha first, Jemma.” His voice was hard. It was an order. “Please…”

She met his eyes as the last word cracked, her heart lurching painfully at the emotions pouring out of him and she sank back to the floor. Jemma mechanically felt for Natasha’s pulse and finding it thready. Given the amount of blood covering both the Captain and the floor, she was impressed that it was even that well… “Let’s get her back to the Zephyr, alright. We have supplies there…”

Natasha’s eyes flashed open, bright with fever, and she kicked out at Jemma.

Steve caught her ankle, “Hey…hey…” He held her tight, “Nat, its Jemma…”

She snarled something in Russian, squirming.

A hand settled on her forehead, a red mist seeping into her skin, “Sleep _s_ _estra_.”

Green eyes fluttered closed.

Jemma stood, stepping back as Steve struggled to his feet and tried to ignore the others’ gasps as they realized just how serious the other Avenger was injured. She had no doubt they’d been told not to worry, to focus the others before themselves. _So stubborn…_ Jemma’s looked over her shoulder as James staggered to his feet, his center of gravity thrown completely off, and Fitz sighed as he stood from his crouch.

The return to the Zephyr was a blur, Jemma concentrating on the path ahead instead of the pain in Steve’s eyes or the unusual sensation of being able to hear James stagger behind her or the redhead murmuring in broken Russian…

She had Steve lay her flat on the deck, instructing Wanda to grab the first aid from the overhead compartment. Jemma managed to get Steve to step away, placing her hands where his had been. Given the location, she could see that the metal itself was holding what blood was left in her body and didn’t want to move it any more than she would have to.

“Wanda…can you hand me the gauze, elastic bandages, and the scissors?”

The plastic crackled before the roll was placed in her hands. Jemma cut away the uniform around the metal and turned her head to Steve, “Can you hold her up so I can wrap this?”

He said nothing as he came over.

Jemma cushioned the wound with gauze and wrapped the bandages as tight as she could to keep the metal in place, not stopping until she used the entire roll. She was faintly aware of the others boarding as she sat back as well as a familiar pinpoint stare boring into her head.

Wanda’s hand fell on her shoulder, “I’ll watch Natasha and Steve…go to him.”

She met those dark eyes and nodded, wearily pushing herself up to her feet.

James held out his hand, his expression not as clouded as he smiled.

Jemma only hesitated for second before taking it, sitting in the empty seat on his right and sending a small smile to Lincoln as he channeled the electricity from the destroyed wiring while Fitz worked on capping them. She sank into his side and closed her eyes.

He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“What happened?” Jemma murmured.

It was Lincoln who responded, “We split to follow them and realized too late that Ivanov and Blake had no plan of making out of the whole thing alive. Joey kept the shrapnel away from me while Elena got Coulson and May. The secondary explosion broke his arm and knocked out May.”

“Stevie, Natalia, and I went after Ivanov…” James flinched as something crackled, “I tried to shield him when he dove after her but I got too close to the explosion…”

“ _Amadan!”_ She muttered and she could _feel_ his smile as he chuckled into her hair.

“Not my best move, but…” He turned to look at Natasha, Steve, and Wanda with the familiar shadows of grief and anger darkening his expression, his jaw tightening. His arm sparked in response and Fitz cursed, “A lot of good it did her.”

“It’s not your fault, Buck.”

Jemma looked at Steve once more, his eyes flinty as he looked at James and she squeezed his hand in agreement. He didn’t look away from his friend, but she could feel a weariness set in as his muscles loosened.

“James…” Wanda’s voice was low, “you did what you could.”

He leaned his head back against the hull and closed his eyes, a lone tear trailing down his cheek.

She knew in that moment that there was nothing more she could say. Instead, she pressed herself more firmly into his side, burrowing her head in his shoulder and Jemma felt his hand squeeze hers in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably have one chapter left after this and I'll try to have it up before Infinity Wars. Until next time...


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